


Shelter of Mercy

by orphan_account



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Aftermath of Violence, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Aziraphale can sense love, Aziraphale sleeps fight me, Aziraphale's Bookshop (Good Omens), Blood and Violence, Captivity, Crowley Has Long Hair (Good Omens), Cuddling & Snuggling, Fluff, Gabriel is an asshole, Hair Brushing, Hermit Aziraphale, Historical Inaccuracy, Hugs, Hurt Crowley (Good Omens), Hurt/Comfort, Living Together, M/M, Nightmares, Not 6000 years of it though, PTSD Elements, Panic Attacks, Past Abuse, Protective Aziraphale (Good Omens), Protective Crowley, Romance, Sharing experiences, Sleeping Together, Speed-run??, Suicide mention, The Mortifying Ordeal of Being Known, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Touch-Starved Crowley (Good Omens), Wing Grooming, inaccuracy in general, speed-run
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-22
Updated: 2020-02-26
Packaged: 2021-02-19 10:21:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 18
Words: 55,484
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22576192
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Aziraphale lives a quiet, peaceful life in his store, boarded up and closed off from the rest of the world.One day a mess of mangled feathers and broken skin is tossed onto his floor, and he tries his best to pick up the pieces and put them back together again. - No longer updated (long story short some shit happened and every time I try to write in this it brings back bad memories of a friend I lost last Spring)
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 52
Kudos: 271





	1. Monstrous Formations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Major violence/blood warning for these next few chapters!  
> Crowley is referred to as "it" for the first few chapters; I hope this doesn't offend any of my nonbinary readers!

There was a slow drizzle of rain mixed with snow on an especially dreary night in Soho, outside the bookstore belonging to a certain A. Z. Fell. It was closed indefinitely: today and every day since he bought the place in 1897. Most people at this point assumed it was shut down for good, due to financial complications or renovations that had never come to pass. This wasn't entirely untrue; the store most definitely wasn't open to the public, but it was very much still in use. The angel had found it a perfect place to make a home on Earth, both to as a source of solace from the hectic nature of humanity and a safe location to store thousands of literary works and his accumulation of research.

It was difficult as first to distract people from coming to inspect the store. Aziraphale had spent much time planting distractions and false memories in people's minds till hardly anybody remembered it existed at all.

Once a few children had thrown a rocks into the windows, which were miraculously all restored by the next morning. The children in question also described some terrifying light that speckled through the glass, a horde of voices all clustering together that chanted some strange tongue. Of course, these reports were ignored, the children scolded for damaging private property.

Since then, people avoided the place all together, a majority assuming it was haunted or perhaps brought bad luck, despite what their common sense might tell them. They sometimes paused on their travels to gaze at the boarded up windows and wonder about its history, before moving on with their busy little lives. 

The angel on the other hand hadn't left the shop since he stepped foot in it for the first time a little over seven decades ago, finding the comfort and isolation of his little haven far preferable to the callous uncertainty of the outdoor world. It'd been nearly a century since he was called on for business from Heaven, and he'd started to think he would never have to face the cruelty of the world again; he quite liked the idea, even though he told himself he was just waiting for Her to find use for him again-which She certainly would, in Her own time. Within the spindly rafters and musty insulation, there was not a soul that bothered his long days of research.

The night was growing colder as the hours past on, long-dead leaves crunching as they hit the sides of the store in gushes of wind. Walls of darkness coated everything that wasn't lit up by lamps and candles, flickering and flashing halos of their own on the walls. 

Aziraphale sat rigidly on a chair in the middle of the store. He'd started his evening organizing a pile of books by topic three times over, each time not quite to his liking. One book cover might be too green, or not green enough. Too shiny, or too dull; the colors might be wrong, the paper sticking out here and there just a tad...it'd still take some time and adjustments before they satisfied him. They sat on a dangerously high pile on a small table next to him, and had been untouched for the past three hours. A large, heavy book rested in his lap, the sharp spine nearly scratching his thighs. He didn't realize when he'd started reading, and now couldn't focus on anything else. 

He spent his time wrapped up in reading in various subjects of all interests, but had a particular fascination with such relating to religion and the occult-though the latter was purely scientific in nature, of course. During his time spent on Earth, the angel had discovered many things pertaining to his own kind and other entities that roamed the world unnoticed by humans. All this knowledge was kept safely in his store, lining shelves, cupboards and baskets. Most of them were selected carefully throughout the years, but this one in particular had been bought on a whim when he happened upon a sale at a small and quite rundown bookstore that was going to go out of business, about a year before he'd moved in to his own. He excitedly picked up as many books as he could carry in his arms, creating a large bag in his hand while nobody was noticing and filling it to the brim as well. He certainly had to jump through some hoops to avoid suspicion these days, in what humans had come to call the modern era.

He'd dropped this book behind a bookcase at some point years in the past, forgetting it till just a few days before, when he was doing a thorough cleaning.

This book in particular had everything to do with Demonology. Aziraphale himself had never seen a demon up close, and only glimpses back around his days in Eden, back when everything was fresh and new and not all shrouded in mystery like it was today. Back then, demons were seen as equals in a way; the faint scent of Heaven still lingered on their wings and they still spoke of Her as a mother. They kept to themselves for the most part, unsure of their place in everything, and Aziraphale did so as well.

He'd been told time had turned them feral and unrelenting, so seeped in their sinful ways that they thought only like wild animals; something to be caged and studied; they remembered nothing of their heritage as angels, just the bleak expanse of fire that they crawled out of so long ago after their plummet into the center of despair. Aziraphale found himself interested in learning how Hell corrupted them so. He decided knowledge of any sort was worthwhile, even though these books were only written by humans who almost certainly had no experience with any real demon, other than perhaps ones produced by their own psyche while under the influence of some nasty substance.

So far, he'd learned twelve ways to summon various kinds of entities- not that he would ever _use_ those kind of instructions, but he thought it wise to learn the alleged methods anyway- and whether these were viable in any way or not was unknown. It was actually quite similar to how he communicated with Heaven on occasion, and wondered if the process was identical save for the patterns and passages to recite, though of course knew the danger of messing with what he had no business in.

There was information of sigils, incantations, possessions and all other sorts of distasteful topics. Even reading over the passages in the safety of his store made him quiver slightly. He wondered if consuming this sort of writing would be deemed as improper, and would occasionally peek up from his reading to make sure there were no prying eyes watching from the walls to reprimand him for delving into such things.

In the paragraph he was currently reading, it described many different interpretations of demons. They ranged from floating orbs to nightmarish abominations, and he didn't know which sounded more unrealistic. He'd only watched the beasts from afar, too cautious to lose his way just as they had, so what they may look like now was an enigma to him. He wondered if their necks twisted into sinkholes of teeth and bone, flesh peeling off of leathery faces that dripped with fire and poison.

Whatever their forms might look like, he knew they must reflect the nature of the sin they emerged from, and the mere sight of them would surely cause madness. Of course, he knew they must change themselves to blend into humanity without arousing mistrust. No matter what appearance they chose, they were still monstrosities that didn't deserve to walk in the light of day- that's what he'd been told, anyway. He thought better than to question it. 

There was a swooping sound of wings that caused the angel to jump in his seat, book toppling to the floor with a clang. He blinked, eyes too accustomed to the dim light of Earth and all its night cycles. 

Before him was his superior, Gabriel, walking proudly through the room with some wreck of limbs and dripping blood in tow. Papers that lined desks and floors fell out of their places, old rafters creaked and shook at the disturbance.

"Evening, Aziraphale. I hate interrupt your little night in, but I'm in a bit of a rush right now, so let's cut the small talk short and get this thing locked up." he grunted.

"W-", he started, getting up quickly to ask the questions that began knock around in his head, but the archangel ignored the attempts and simply strode past to an old closet near the back of the store that Aziraphale hadn't used for over five years. 

"Mind if I use this?" The archangel clapped his hands and the inside of the closet doubled in size. "This'll do. This thing needs to be contained in something quickly." Aziraphale's eyes followed the trail of red that had drizzled down from the baggage the archangel was holding, scrunching up his face and quickly miracling away what he could, though there wasn't much of a point as more seeped down to replace it soon enough.

The angel heard another snap and a large, metal, barred door appeared where the wooden one had been. "You'll need to watch this thing, but it should be alright regardless. Here, let me just-", he walked to the center of the now-expanded closet, reaching out his hand to the floor and created a glowing pattern that sizzled and sunk into the floor before disappearing completely. 

"There, you don't have to worry now...that'll keep this thing in check. It can't use its powers in here, so it's defenseless as a muzzled dog. Actually, a muzzle wouldn't be a bad idea now that I say it." He threw the messy heap down onto the floor, walking back out after closing the door, which locked without the need for a key. He finally stood to face the stammering angel.

"I-", the angel started, quickly overshadowed.

"I know that you've read more on the subject of these beasts than most of us, so we decided to bring you a little subject to experiment on, or just keep locked up; I don't care, we just needed to get the vermin out of our hands. It will not behave whatsoever. It was simply getting too frustrating to handle anymore."

"You mean-",

"It shouldn't be a problem, just keep it in this cage and it won't be able to do any harm, alright? Questions?"

"Oh goodness, Heavens, I- I need time to prepare for this!" Aziraphale said from behind a column he had partly hidden behind, now painfully aware of the beast in question. Even simply hearing a voice after so long might give him nightmares in the coming weeks. He shook as he stammered out a jumble of questions that mashed together tightly.

"Alright then! Thank you for taking on this duty, Aziraphale. We'll check in every once in a while to make sure you didn't mess anything up. Don't worry about neighbors-they won't be able to hear anything beyond this point...oh, and its name is Crawly. Maybe you can teach it to play fetch!" he laughed, voice booming in the store.

"But-no! I can't possibly even begin to-", Aziraphale started, but in a flash he was left alone. He stood motionless in place, head clamoring around with panic and frustration. 

He slowly tilted his head to the newly gleaming cage, craning his neck with a stiff body.

The walk over to the monstrosity felt long, every footstep hovering in place for a few moments before he had enough courage to move forward again. Cautiously peering in through the bars, he looked around the room, trying to avoid having to face the beast. The closet had been emptied of everything except a small, flickering light, distasteful yellow wallpaper peeling at the edges and lots of dust. The light had a yellow-green hue that cast a sickly glow on the shiny puddles beneath. He hadn't used it for containing anything except coats he no longer wore-which had disappeared completely-,so he didn't miss anything. There was a low humming sound coming from a nearby air vent, and the store settled into it's new patterns with occasional creaks. 

Whatever lay there on the floor was breathing, undulating with each gargled pant. 

His hands shook as he opened the door, stepping quietly as he could to the mess of mutilated skin. He panicked as he saw blood quickly pooling.

_So that was a demon._

It was...smaller than he'd imagined. It looked to be about his height, in fact, though much more frail. He'd expected such a beast to tower over him.

Beyond the bruising and dried red, it looked somehow very normal, almost like his own form. It was fragile, and sickly pale, but hardly beastly at all-though he was far from underestimating the creature.  
He squatted down to get a better look, wincing at all the raw, purple skin that spotted its languid body.

The only clothes it wore were sterile, once-white robes that Heaven must've provided. It was now a dull shade of pink, wet and sticky. It contrasted eerily with the rest of its body, and was badly torn and tattered. Evidently the monster had put up a quite a fight.

Dark red, nearly black blood began to collect around its face, and the angel quickly miracled it away, pulling off a scrap that covered its shoulder to find the source of the bleeding. 

A large wound was gouged into the side of its neck, somewhat like a patch pulverized cherries stuffed into a large, swelling hole; liquid bubbled down in a thick stream. He gasped at the sight, feelings of concern overtaking his hesitation around the creature.

Such damage would take time to heal, even with the use of his miracles; he was vastly out of practice, and he'd hardly ever had to stitch up wounds other than scratches on small animals or children. Even if the demon didn't discorporate, it would suffer if he didn't do anything to stop it. Even with the knowledge that they were hereditary enemies, the angel didn't have the heart to leave it this way. 

He placed a hand gently against the neck of the beast, brushing aside long, wet strands of fiery hair that tangled around his fingers and stained his skin red. Pausing for a moment to breathe, he willed power to course through his being again.

The once-familiar static of divine strength began to charge into his fingers, pulsing and popping in his ears. He knew injuries this fatal would take much more to heal than one miracle could provide, but it would stop the bleeding, and right now that's all he had his attention on.

The sickening sound of skin just beginning to squeeze together filled up the silence. The neck under his hand churned with strong, irregular palpitations. It felt feverishly hot, more so than could be natural even for the beast. He worried for a moment that he might even find a burn on his palm after taking his hand away. He bit his lip, trying to block out the sounds and imagine once again the ever-flowing love for everything.

He stopped when the dripping slowed and flesh began to crisp and harden under his hands. There was a lull as he waited for his own energy to return, so unpracticed from his time spent inside his little store, away from all the world. His head buzzed and swam, the coolness of the store returning like stepping into a blizzard with nothing to cover himself. For a moment he felt oddly calm.

Then, he heard a low growl. 

His whipped his head around to see the demon staring at him with golden, cat-like eyes; sharp teeth were bared and stained from obvious recent use-almost certainly from sinking down into living flesh.

The angel tried to run to the door, feeling himself get knocked over by powerful hands that clawed into his back and tore a line of his vest right below his shoulder blades. He ended up on the floor, trapped under the lanky form of the beast that snarled down at him. The impact of the fall and sharp currents of air whipping around him from the thrashing wings of the beast took away what little breath he could gasp in.

He threw up one of his arms in a desperate attempt to cover his face, unable to think of much else, which the demon caught as he lifted it. It bit down, and for a moment there was the sound of skin being squeezed taut till it popped and his own blood squirted in his eyes, blinding his vision as he clamped them shut.

The angel let out a scream, for the first time since he'd taken this Earthly form; it surprised himself more than the beast, and for a moment his mind reeled from his voice as it echoed throughout the store. It sounded strangely foreign to even his own ears. 

The demon was still latched onto his arm, which was now throbbing with the unfamiliar sensation of pain, but he felt the grip beginning to slacken. The beast was evidently running out of strength, its jaw quivering and face contorted with torment as the angel watched blood begin to leak down over its face, barely clotted wounds opening from the strength of its attack.

His whole body shook, both from the injury to his arm and the shock of contact after so much time spent alone; the warmth of another being felt unnatural to him after all the solitude. He was acutely aware of his own nervous system, the sharp spikes of fear nearly as painful as the teeth locked under his skin, the heart he'd come into this world equipped with pulsating like a living creature in itself.

He weakly lifted his other arm to try to push the beast away, but his hand couldn't find a grip as it met nothing but sweat, blood and uneven skin that scalded him.

In the corner of his eye, Gabriel appeared in front of the two entities and ripped the demon off of him, roughly throwing it to the floor in a swift motion.

"You couldn't last ten minutes, could you, Aziraphale? Was it really that hard to understand simple directions?" The beast lunged at the archangel, who kicked it hard in the stomach and sent it flying into a wall, blood splattering around the room. Something cracked, wood splintered, and everything seemed to swirl in a cyclone of darkness and light.

The archangel walked over calmly as it struggled to get up and grabbed a handful of the beast's dark wing feathers, tearing them right out of their places with a dreadful snapping sound.

The room was filled with frantic shrieking, its voice a screeching hiss of disembodied terror. The demon crawled into a corner and cowered on its knees, tears streaming down its face and pooling onto the floor with a faint sizzle. The archangel walked closer and bent down, gripping the beast's chin roughly and wrapped a muzzle over its mouth, hooking around its ears. Despite its feeble attempts to snap at him and the way the device gouged into its skin, it went on tight and secure. He walked off as it desperately tugged at the contraption, claws digging into impossibly strong, pearly material of Heaven that wouldn't be broken.

Its hands seemed to lose mobility, limbs falling to its sides as it pressed itself closer to the wall and covered itself with its wings as best it could, wrapping round itself like a dripping cocoon. 

"That'll teach it. _Ahhh..._ thought we'd already been over this. Didn't think you'd have any fight left in you, stupid thing." He turned around and reached for Aziraphale's arm, which was now throbbing with pain that he was hardly aware of right now, eyes fixed blankly on the sight before him. He didn't feel fear anymore, too hollowed out from the sights and sensations all blending together.

"Got you, did it? Well, no need to worry about that. You're still in one piece, aren't you? Don't be an idiot next time and this won't happen again."

"I'm...I'm-sorry! I'm so sorry!" Aziraphale managed to choke, a surge of emotions coming over him all at once and tears running down over his cheeks. He'd never been so close to a demon, or discorporation for that matter. The concepts of both had always seemed so far away, at least since he moved in here. In such a short amount of time, all the safety and silence slipped away, replaced by the nightmare he'd been chosen to live through.

"Don't let this happen again." Without another word, the archangel disappeared once more, leaving Aziraphale to slide down onto the floor and gasp.

The demon was sitting far against a wall in the cage, sobbing violently. Aziraphale knew there would be no more healing for its wounds tonight, so he decided to leave it to rest and simply sleep away the stresses of the night himself-the concept any other time would've repulsed him, having missed so much time to study.

Maybe when he woke up, he'd realize it had all been a test, or dream of some sort; perhaps Heaven would find another angel to take on the task. There was no way he'd be entrusted to carry out this duty after tonight. What a fool he'd been.

He made his way back to his waiting armchair in the study, cold from lack of use today. Yes, if he just sat like this, rested his head back like this, he could pretend nothing had happened at all, and he was just having a little nap. Nothing wrong, nothing new.

Just this, as it had been and always would be, forever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is officially the longest piece of creative writing I've ever created! I started sometime in September and kept telling myself I'd get it done by [fill-in-the-blank], but kept getting hit by writer's block. I honestly had so much fun creating this, despite the many flaws I'm sure I didn't notice. 
> 
> Almost complete, I just have a few chapters left to sort out and need to go back and polish up the finished drafts.
> 
> Hope you enjoy :)


	2. Hopeless Endeavors

Aziraphale woke up with a start. His body ached from the awkward position he'd fallen asleep in, glaring against the light coming from slits in the windows. The place where he'd been bitten had two small marks that sat red and swollen in his skin, and his back throbbed from long scratch marks, all of he quickly miracled away with a flick of a thumb.

He walked out into the main room of the store, grimacing at all the things that had fallen over in the ordeal the night before. Stacks of books and paper sat sadly in heaps on the floor and wax from candles had dripped into large puddles on desks. These were all swiftly cleaned up with a wave of the hand as well, but it still felt disorderly.   
He spent a solid ten minutes trying to set a statue in just the position it had been, hoping he could make things feel safe and familiar again. Nothing worked; instead, everything was strange and wrong.

He sighed, swallowing hard. There would be no running from the monster in what _had been_ his closet.

Shivering with unease, he made his way back to the cage, eyes darting to the beast and away again in quick successions, as if the sight itself could corrupt him. Perhaps it could.

The sight was horrifying: large streaks and trails of dried blood clung to the walls, lumps of congealed gore speckled all about. There was a large puddle of it that reached to the edge of the cage that surrounded the demon, who looked to be asleep, or perhaps unconscious. There was a slow trickle of blood still seeping out of the holes where a large cluster of feathers had been on the injured wing. A few stray down feathers lay scattered about on the floor, mixing into the liquid and sticking in clumps. 

Despite himself, he felt deep pity for the beast, knowing such a ghastly wound would cause unbearable suffering once it woke up. He quivered at the thought of his own wings meeting such a fate, tender as they were when brought into the world. He needed to heal what he could of the beast's injuries, but this time he wouldn't come so ill-prepared. 

He opened the door with a grimace, materializing the fiery sword he'd been gifted by Her to smite such abominations when he was sent to this Earth, though it was only recently he got his hands on it again-it was a long story, brought about his own foolishness.   
He pointed it in the air in the direction of the heap, inducing his appearance to grow, letting just a bit of his true form show. Hopefully this would threaten the beast enough to keep it docile, but this time he would resort to violence if necessary. 

"Wake up, foul thing. I know your tricks, and you will not fool me again." Aziraphale spoke, voice echoing with celestial thunder throughout the room. Currents of power rippled through the air, light spilling into every shadow. He hadn't been forced to summon such strength for many centuries, and it surprised even himself. There was a long silence disturbed only by the sound of labored breathing and a rustle disheveled wings. 

"You will open your eyes and face me. Don't think I will not resort to-to..." Try as he might, he couldn't keep this show of strength up for long, seeing the deep and open holes all over the demon. He felt a churning of sadness inside his stomach and inched closer, still pointing the sword. The room felt so cold.

"Come on now, wake up, beast. Wake up."

The mess of flesh only wheezed with strangled breaths, somewhat like a quiet, broken instrument, each seemingly a victory in itself; a sound that he knew would haunt him for years to come.

The angel finally lowered the blade, looking down with a long sigh. This demon couldn't hurt him. It couldn't even move.

He kneeled down to get a better look, setting the sword aside with a shaky hand. He'd be ready if it tried anything, but right now his conscience wouldn't allow him to wait any longer without helping the beast. 

He cupped an elbow over his nose, coughing at the sickening stench of rancid metal and sulfur. 

Pressing a hand down on the wound in the demon's wing, he concentrated a moment to let the divine work itself into ruined sinew. It was bad; so terribly warm and sticky, a hint of bones scraping his fingertips. It could take months for the skin to heal correctly, knowing the overuse of miracles could do more harm than good as he had no knowledge of demon biology, and at this point it might be too late to save it.

If it did discorporate, it would simply return back to Hell and that would be as good as letting it escape his watch. He couldn't fail the duty Heaven had given him. 

Perhaps whatever sigil Gabriel left in the room that rendered it powerless would prevent even that much; in that case, if it bled much longer, it could truly die. Be erased from existence entirely, and there would be no going back. The angel shuddered at the thought; even a demon didn't deserve such a cruel fate. 

The wound began to scab around the edges, and he heard the beast shuffle around beneath his touch. 

The room filled with a scream of agony. The angel quickly lifted up his sword again, trying to hold down the thrashing monster with his other hand. He'd have to heal what he could before the beast became too violent.

"Please, don't be afraid! I just need to-", The beast doubled over with a loud hiss, the unnaturally sharp nails on its hands and feet digging into the floorboards, leaving long scratch marks behind with a horrible screeching sound.  
"It's alright, it'll be over soon, just stop moving so I can heal-" Aziraphale tried to say, but was cut off by more ear-piercing wails, heaving sobs that made his heart swell with empathy for the creature, despite its corruption.

He knew if he tried to heal it anymore he might only make things worse, as the beast didn't currently have the ability to self-heal, and only it knew the placing of every nerve ending within its body. This was just enough to stop the bleeding for now. The beast was incredibly vulnerable right now without its powers, and it'd have to be treated with the same care one might give to an injured human for now- at least till it regained some strength.

If it ever did.

At last it stopped moving, panting and whimpering on the floor. Its skin was deathly pale; splotches of red, purple and blue scattered about all over. The crimson hair covered its face and was matted beyond help for now. 

Aziraphale knew the beast didn't deserve comfort or sympathy, but he couldn't stop himself from creating a little nest out of blankets and pillows he had stored up for emergencies from a back room in the farthest corner of the cage. At the very least it may help the demon sleep some of the pain away; it was merely a bare essential.   
He garnered all his strength he could form, spent from all the energy he used in healing, and gathered the beast up into his arms.

He wobbled over to the bed, setting it down with as much gentleness as he could manage, and backed away quickly, closing the door behind him.   
He looked in at the beast, still crying and gasping for air beneath its muzzle.

_This was going to take time._


	3. Temporary Sanctuary

Aziraphale faced a bookshelf on the upper level of the store, trying his best to occupy his time in a productive way despite the knowledge that there was a sleeping demon in what _should_ be the safety of his home.

It had been a week since the beast was brought into his store, and since the second day he had barely heard a sound out of the creature. In full honesty, he was scared to even look in the cage for fear of seeing it die away. He had tried to distract his mind with reading the way he always did, but within every word there were lingering thoughts of why, how, and what's going to happen now.

He knew he was reading something now, something about ancient mysteries of forgotten civilizations, but his mind was completely blank. That was most likely due in part to the cocktail of cough medicine and rubbing alcohol-long expired, from an old medicine kit he'd kept in a back room for whatever strange reason- he'd been drinking every few hours. Even that much barely effected him at this point. Every piece of decoration in the store with even the most vague of life-like characteristics, every time the grandfather clock ticked just a little bit too loudly, he jolted with alarm, expecting at any moment to be torn apart with dark claws.

"What do humans do to care for their injured?" he whispered out loud. He'd watched humans in hospitals and camps before, dressing wounds and giving them food, water and medicine to heal them faster. He didn't know what effect any of these things had on demons; whether it would speed the process of healing or prevent their own natural way of handling pain was unknown. 

It was noon before he worked up the motivation and confidence to slowly descend back down to the main floor, eyes scanning vigilantly for movement all around. The cage loomed in the distance with the sickening smell of blood and another scent he couldn't place yet all intertwined. Something burnt and earthy, a sickly sweet musk. Something that didn't belong anywhere near him.

He walked back up to the cage, gritting his teeth so much his jaw began to ache. He was scared to look in, to see it rotting away or forced to survive unending misery from its pain. He wrapped his hands around the bars, carefully peering in.

The beast seemed to be laying in the same position as he'd left it before. Its back still rose and fell slowly, so it must have some life left in it.

He opened the door, not bothering to make himself appear threatening. If the demon tried anything at this point it merely wished to die- which was a distinct possibility, but even demons must know how difficult it was to get another form after losing their original. 

He walked over to the bed, making the dim light above shine just a bit brighter for him. Unable to see the condition of its cuts from where he stood, he reached out a hand to turn it over. It growled weakly at the touch, evidently having stirred from the contact.

"Now, now, you're not going to give me trouble today are you, brute?" he huffed, looking down with a wince at the dark bruises all over its skin. Seeing it so fragile and powerless gave him confidence, but he was careful to keep his guard firmly in place.

It glared up at him with wet, golden eyes that were glazed over with pink, a small snarl at its dry and very cracked lips.

"Crawly, you can't do this yourself, can you? Things will only hurt more if you move so. Don't fuss." He started moving his hands over the sore, swelled skin, and felt a pang of sympathy as he watched its eyes widen and clamp shut. The demon clutched into the blankets, tearing the fabric with its claws and gasping hoarsely. The angel miracled away what dried blood and sweat he could, getting a look at the still-raw cuts that threatened to pop open if he wasn't careful.

He didn't even notice the cooing sound he made in the back of his throat. As much as the beast wasn't worthy of gentleness, he couldn't help but want to soothe the suffering creature. It must be in his nature as an angel to feel compassion for even those that didn't deserve it.

The cuts on its wing had scabbed nicely, a crusty layer of blood sitting over the surface. The surrounding feathers were matted together; it could do with a long preening, to be certain. He pushed the thought out of his mind and began stitching up severed flesh, unconsciously running a hand through the beast's hair to untangle some of the strands. There was a slight hum at the back of his throat, partly to attempt to calm himself down and to make a sort of tune to match the pulses of energy emanating from his hands.

"You poor dea...ah, vicious, contemptible thing...whatever did you do to cause yourself so much suffering? What did you do?" he spoke in a soft voice, getting into a bit of a trance of repetition with the surges of power that went down into the skin and sewed together what he could.

"You should start to feel at least a bit better now." he said, standing back up and backing away, looking down at the demon which now stared up at him with an unreadable expression, eyes fluttering a bit as exhaustion marked it with a long slumber ahead. "Keep on resting...oh, how long have you been sleeping? Shouldn't be difficult for you then, I suppose." he muttered, swaying a bit with lethargy from the spent energy as he left the room.

"So...I should..." he mumbled as he wandered back to his study, almost falling down into the cushions of his armchair. "Might...h-elp...oh whatever, he mumbled, settling in as wind blew outside and a chill of cold air ran through him.

* * *

Aziraphale was startled awake as he was pulled roughly to his feet. The glaring faces of Gabriel and Sandalphon stared down at him.

"Sleeping on the job, Aziraphale? It's noon." Sandalphon snapped, looking around the store with disgust.

Aziraphale searched for words as the realization of what was happening began to resister. "A-ah! Quite sorry, sir. I um, I must've-"

"I don't want excuses. I came to see how the progress was going. The research. What have you learned so far?" Gabriel said sharply.

"You-oh! You mean Crawly, yes, right. I...", he thought for a moment. Had he learned much of anything substantial since the demon entered his shop? "The beast has started to heal a bit. I won't know much more until it gains some strength. I apologize for the wait, I just-"

"You just...? Is that all? Please, it's already been a month."

"I...there could be vital information given more time...at the moment all I can do is give it time.",

"Alright then, let's see how the beast has progressed under your care, shall we?" Without waiting for a response, he walked over to the demon's cage, flinging the door open and stepping inside. Aziraphale raced after him, suddenly panic stricken.

Crawly sat up from its blankets, eyes blinking from sleeping deeply. Once it saw the archangel walk into the room, it shrieked and stumbled off the bed to the blood-streaked corner of the room, curling up and covering its face with its arms.  
"Wow, you really managed to get that thing to stop bleeding. I'm impressed. The blankets, though? Even pillows?"

"I...I didn't want to risk the wounds opening up again, so I thought the presence of a softer barrier would help."

"Whatever, but come on now, if you let it heal completely its just going to get confident. We don't want that, now do we?" Sandalphon walked over to the trembling demon and began to kick at it. Aziraphale grimaced as it tried to drag itself away from the blows, only to slip on half-dried blood and be stomped on, over and over again, harder each time.

Swollen lumps of flesh, bruised purple and yellow, split open at their seams. The beast started to hiss and wail, thrashing with whatever power was left in itself and growling out incoherent words, in some ancient language the angel thought must belong to its side from long before in time. 

Gabriel walked followed steadily behind, dangling a vial of holy water above the demon. He bent down and tilted the pinned beast's head to the side, trailing a thin stream of the substance over its face. It cried out harder, voice growing hoarse as steam misted up and skin bubbled red on its cheek. 

"Please stop! It's-it's already taken so long to close those up!" Aziraphale yelled, unable to stand the sight a moment longer. He ran up to wedge himself between the two entities. "Please, that's enough. Don't you think if it's healed up it'll be more useful for research?" he babbled, trying to think up what to say next in a hurry, tongue twisting up in his mouth. "If you hurt it anymore, it'll just-it'll-stay unconscious, and if that happens there will be nothing to learn from it, nothing at all." 

The two thought for a moment, finally stepping back and walking out the door of the cage.

"Hm, I see your point. Well, just don't treat it like a puppy, alright? It's a disgusting creature that doesn't need pampering, you know that." Gabriel spoke at last.

"Right, right. Let's just leave it to suffer, then?" Aziraphale said with his best attempt at a grin, slamming the door behind them.

"Finally you're thinking straight!" the archangel laughed.

"Well then, if there's nothing else, then..."

"I expect to see more progress with your research next time. Actual progress." His smile made Aziraphale shiver, wondering how much trouble he was in at this point. Had he done wrong by trying to heal the demon? Would She be angry with him?

"Yes! Yes sir, I will." 

With a flash, the archangel disappeared and Aziraphale let his knees give out under him, falling to the floor.   
He felt dazed, his mind all twisted and churning. Fear was filling him to the brim, but...why? All his energy had suddenly left his body, replaced by hollow dread. Without thinking, he crawled back over to the cage, peering in. 

The demon was laying on the floor, motionless aside from short, small breaths. He creaked the door open, stepping quietly over to the mass of bones and wavering flesh, now glistening with a fresh tinge of blood. He kneeled down, grimacing at the smell of burning skin, hearing small sobs and a little hitch in its breath as it felt his presence. It looked up, eyes filled with horror, and all Aziraphale could do was murmur words of comfort under his breath and begin the process of healing all over again.

Cuts oozed once more, dripping down on the floor and staining the wood. Inflamed skin shook under his hands as he worked gently as he could to sew everything back up with every surge of power. 

"I'm sorry, you didn't deserve this. You don't deserve this..." he said, throat constricting around every word. Tears wet his eyes as he worked, slurring his speech. "I didn't know they'd hurt you. I really didn't. I'm so sorry." 

It eventually slumped into his arms and breathing slowed, passing out once more. At least it'd have peace for the time being. 

He hadn't realized how tired every miracle made him, and as the last bit of skin hardened into scabs and dried blood was erased, he used a final one to place the beast back in bed  
He walked out, collapsing onto the floor right as he shut the door, feeling darkness come over him once more. 

This way, nothing would get into the cage without him noticing. Nothing could hurt the demon again. 

_If anything happens, I will be here to keep you safe._


	4. The Monster's Guardian

When the angel finally opened his eyes for the first time in three weeks, he heard the sound of scratching right in front of his face. He groaned as he slowly got to his elbows, wiping off dust that'd gotten stuck to his coat during his sleep. 

Judging by the darkness outside that showed through slits in the covered windows, it was sometime late at night; it was much colder than it had been the last time he was awake. It didn't really matter to him how long he'd been sleeping. As long as he didn't have any pressing matters outside to attend to, he'd stay inside indefinitely. Earthly time never did mean much to him.

Crawly sat behind the bars of its cage, scraping its nails against the wood floor. It looked out curiously, waiting for movement. 

"Hmf...what's wrong, beast? Have your wounds opened up again?" he mumbled, wiping his eyes and teetering to his feet. "Perhaps you were simply trying to reach my face, claw my eyes out. I should've expected as much." he scoffed, shaking his head even as he opened the door. The demon drew back into the dimness of the cage. He felt a bubbling of happiness in his chest against his better judgement as he realized the beast had woken up. It was moving. _It would survive._

"Alright then, are you going to behave and let me tend to you? If you try anything I won't hesitate to-to...I will _not_ be merciful." he said, emphasizing every word as he spoke.  
The demon ignored his threats and turned to the side, extending what it could of its wounded wing. The angel looked to see if there was any swelling, and saw the beginnings of new down feathers covering the patch where they'd been torn out of. At this point it must've been aware of its inability to use powers, so Aziraphale assumed the creature saw the angel as merely a resource to speed its own healing.

"You-your feathers! Is this what you wanted to show me? I had no idea they could grow back." he exclaimed. Thankfully his own wings had never endured such a cruel fate, so he didn't know the healing process involved. He's always assumed if they were pulled out, there'd be no bringing them back. 

The beast flitted its wings, a proud look on its face that quickly turned to a grimace of pain, and it soon let them collapse back down to the floor. The angel chuckled despite himself, stretching out a hand to begin his work.

"You shouldn't get too confident in yourself, beast. They still need time, and moving them too soon will only ruin any progress they've had." He frowned as he said this, gently peeling back old pieces of robe that had stuck to crusted blood, now various shades of pink and brown. He miracled away what he could without damaging the injuries or already sensitive skin. 

"These rags barely cover you anymore...you need something else to wear." he muttered, more to himself than anything. He thought for a moment; he'd need to create something breathable yet warm, loose-fitting and smooth to prevent any friction with the wounds. 

He rubbed his hands together, a bit unsure of what he was even going to make.

He looked over to the boarded windows, picturing what the sky must look like tonight; vast, dark and speckled with stars. In the colder months, when the air wasn't as fogged with pollen and streetlights and everybody went home as soon as they could, the sky would gleam a tad brighter. Sometimes, in the dead of night, everything would finally be silent, and if he focused for a moment, he could make out threads of the Milky Way; he thought of all the other countless galaxies that blended throughout the expanse, weaving the evidence of Her creation into the universe.

He soon brought a new gown into existence. It was a long and beautiful; ebony, with shimmers of silver throughout, and wonderfully silky to the touch; there were also long sleeves that fit loose to avoid digging into cuts. Despite it's thin material, it felt warm under his hold. He couldn't help but rub the material in his hands for a moment, surprised by his own creation; the fabric seemed to melt around his fingertips like cream. 

He broke out of his trance and set it on the ground, backing away.  
"You can dress yourself, can't you, beast? It should be easy to slip into, so if you can just...", he trailed off, walking out of the cage and turning his face away, "Do that much, it'll hopefully fit well enough." He still wasn't sure how much the demon could understand of his speech; could they only speak a language of their own?

The angel bent down to the floor right outside the cage and brought a book up to his face, half reading and half shielding his face from view. He felt a sudden surge of embarrassment for crafting something so lovely for a fallen creature, and wondered if this could get him in trouble. Oh, he couldn't help but make pretty things, he really couldn't. Could he be blamed for it? 

There was rustling sound, then a whine, and he turned to find the demon halfway through the garment, its wings caught on the edge. 

"Oh that's right, your wings- are you sure you can't simply...", he remembered the sigil. The demon had no power, so it was trapped in whatever form it inhabited at the time.   
The angel waved his hand, adjusting the gown to allow for the heavy appendages and walked over to help tie the two sides of the shoulder pieces together and close their seams.   
He paused to admire his work, the long tangles of wavy hair falling down over satiny, jet-black wrinkles of fabric. It really did suit the demon, he thought; he quickly averted his gaze and erased the scraps of blood-covered robe that stuck to the floor. 

The beast did seem to enjoy the new covering, picking up the ends and rubbing at it with its hands. It actually bent down to _smell_ it, and Aziraphale held back a chuckle-though he wondered for a moment if it might actually have feint scent of Heaven. He'd never thought about it.

"...Is it alright? I mean, if you don't care for it I could create something that fits a bit be-", he was cut off by the beast shaking its head fiercely, hands greedily gripping the fabric close and crawling backwards into the cage. The angel couldn't help but feel a pang of sadness that he had to keep the curious beast locked up in such a small place, but stopped himself quickly. No, perhaps this was a sort of temptation. Perhaps the beast wanted to gain his trust with such an innocent presentation; he would have to be diligent. It was still an evil creature.

As he closed the door, he eyed a book sitting on a heap of dusty classics on an even dustier table. He really should clean this place up, he thought as he took the novel without bothering to read the title and slid it under the door of the cage.

"Can you read, demon? I don't suppose any of your kind can...well, it's something to toy with in any case. I wouldn't be a proper angel if I kept creatures locked away without something to occupy to their time, vile as they may be. That would simply be cruel." he said, realizing as the beast healed it most likely wouldn't need as much sleep to speed the process. There was a knot of dread as he realized the beast might simply tear the book to shreds, but there was little he could do as the demon picked it up and turned it around in its hands.

He breathed a sigh and went to a dingy back room to let himself think for a while.

* * *

A few months had passed since Aziraphale had crafted the demon Crawly a gown with the care he might afford to something fit for royalty, and since then he'd been all but slapping himself with shame from doing something so idiotic.

How was he going to explain this to his superiors? The beast just _ended up_ in that? The robes it originally wore magically turned into a beautiful shade of sable that wrapped around and flowed down its slender form to perfection? He was going to face a harsh rebuke, oh, and what if he was denounced as- no, no, he'd simply say it was on hand. Something he kept from an earlier time for emergencies, and that there was no other way...no, no, that was just...

No use worrying about the details right now. Yes, She wanted her children to be at peace, and he was doing nothing but looking at things negatively. His life was going alright; he may have had to watch the demon day in and day out, but things could be so much worse. It didn't have powers, nor did it have the ability to spend all its waking hours insulting him at every turn. He hadn't suffered any injuries himself since the day the demon was brought into his store, when he could've had an arm torn off entirely.

At the end of the day, he was doing fine. The demon didn't suffer, but was safely contained so it couldn't cause any suffering itself. Things were as they should be, things were alright. 

It was then that Gabriel appeared in front of him, causing him to drop the pile of books he was carrying. 

"Oh goodness! How pleasant to see you after all this time...I mean, a month does tend to feel like quite a while when you live down here, you see. How are you? Ah, how is Heaven these days?"

"Skip the formalities. I've come to see how things are doing with your little experiment subject. It _is_ still locked up, right...or did it discorporate already?"

"No, no, the beast is progressing nicely. You know those feathers you...you plucked out? It's beginning to grow them back."

"Really? I didn't realize they could."

"Ah, you see, we _are_ learning things-",

"Not really the most insightful of observations, but it's better than nothing. Has it given up any information yet?"

" _Infor...mation?"_ he said, rolling the word out with a grimace.

"Yes, obviously. Has the beast told you about any plans from Hell? If not, perhaps you should be more forceful with your interrogation."

"I don't-I haven't tried talking to it...I didn't honestly know they could speak."

"How do you think they communicate, exactly, Aziraphale?"

"I always assumed...", he thought for a moment. He'd never even considered that they might be able of intelligent speech, or communication-aside from perhaps grunts and growls. 

"What, it's been here this whole time and hasn't said a word? Well, we're going to have to fix that, now aren't we?" he said, a dark grin spreading on his face. Aziraphale felt himself grow pale, practically running to the cage as the archangel approached it with long strides.

Aziraphale looked at the demon pressed up against the bars, watching to see the source of the commotion. When it saw the two entities walk into the room, it fled backwards into the cage, pressing up against the farthest wall. Its cry vibrated throughout the room, beating its wings desperately in a futile attempt to escape.

No, he wouldn't let this happen. The beast was in his care. His responsibility.

The angel threw himself against the door, barring the way.

"That will not be necessary. I believe a gentler approach will supply the greatest reward, wouldn't you say?"

"Really, after all this time, you're still treating it like a pet...pathetic. How well has that worked out for you so far, hm?"

"I'm making progress. Scaring the beast is only going to hinder my research, I assure you. It won't talk if we continue to damage it."

"Come on, step aside. Don't make this hard for me." The archangel reached behind Aziraphale to grab the door.

_No, it can't happen again. I will not allow it._

Aziraphale manifested his wings, spreading them full. Eyes crawled about under his skin and opened with snaps, blazing light filling up the store. This surely wouldn't intimidate an archangel in the slightest, but he doubted even he would want to stir up much of a commotion out here in the middle of Earth. People would hear if this went much further, even with whatever miracle was keeping the sound without the walls of the store. It was such a hassle to erase their memories, and there would be no end to to the amount of paperwork that'd need to be filled out.

"I believe that will not be necessary, sir." he breathed, watching the archangel loosen his grip and step backwards. As soon as he backed away, Aziraphale replaced his hold on the bars, the light of his touch spreading onto the polished metal with a hiss. He felt a strange burning sensation somewhere wedged beneath flesh and spirit, and he didn't bother to control the sharp cut of his voice. He knew he shouldn't do this, that he was quite possibly interfering with Her design, but...it didn't matter at the time. He'd been given something to look after, and even if he was overstepping his duty-he'd do so if it meant there wouldn't be any more suffering.

"...If you're that set on it, fine. Just don't blame me when the thing won't open its jaw after a century...what's with its clothes?"

"A-ah, those are-", he sputtered, lowering his wings as the sudden burst of fearlessness fled, shame taking its place. The eyes closed in humiliation, sinking back into his skin with sizzles. 

"You know what? I don't care. Dress it like a doll if you want." he said, voice growing more harsh as he spoke. It seemed he was towering over the little angel even more so than a moment ago, looking down on his soft form with disdain. "Well, then I'll check in later...if there isn't any more progress, though, you might as well just keep the thing locked up for good. We certainly don't have any patience for the beast." 

"Ah yes, I'll be sure to let it rot in there, if that's the case. Can't have such a vile creation roaming out here, now can we?" he chuckled, trying his best to hide the chills of dread running down his spine.  
He blinked, and Gabriel disappeared. 

Aziraphale slid down to the floor, clutching his vest with a shaky hand and trying to steady his breath.   
He jolted as he felt breath ghosting up against his neck, turning to see Crawly's face pressing close to the bars. It looked attentively at the angel, eyes wide with fear. 

" _Shhh_...he's gone now. It's alright." he muttered, laying his head back with a long sigh of relief.

They stayed like that for some time, listening to each others' harsh breathing. Aziraphale noticed just how cold it'd gotten when he saw his own breaths creating little clouds in front of him. He wasn't sure just how susceptible demons were to the cold, but Crawley evidently was, as he heard the slightest sound of teeth clacking and felt small vibrations of shivers behind him. That's right; he had noticed the beast's skin felt much less hot as time went by. It could be a sign of growing weakness, or of healing.

He wobbled to his feet, walking back to his study to collect a large, fuzzy blanket he kept for especially cold days; it wasn't an option to use the fireplace, as it'd be a dead giveaway to any passerby's that someone was inhabiting the store, and he'd been saving all his miracles for healing the beast, so they couldn't be wasted on fickle things like warming the place up. 

The demon inched backwards as he opened the cage once more, preparing for mending. He sat the blanket down in front of the beast, kneeling down beside it. 

"I suppose it must be December-maybe even January by now. Here's something to help with the chill a bit." he said, the demon already picking it up to inspect, sniffing it as it had the gown. He hoped the blanket would provide at least a bit of a distraction. "Crawly, can you be still for a moment, please?" he said softly, coming to face the beast once more.

Aziraphale reached to the sides of its face, wincing as it instinctively flinched, eyes locked on the angel in confusion. He grasped at the muzzle that had pulled skin tight for so long, nearly cutting into cheekbones, and even now was bruised from the constant pressure. The beast jolted, trying to pull back with a loud growl. 

The angel held tight, willing the contraption to loosen into his touch. It soon came undone, and was quickly pulled off and tossed away. He began to slowly back out of the cage.

The demon stood deathly still for a few moments, eyes still holding Aziraphale firmly. It eventually opened its jaw wide, sharp teeth gleaming in the dim light. A slitted tongue swept out over its long-chapped lips, fingers coming up to slide over the points of fangs. He assumed it was only inspecting its jaw, but Aziraphale wasn't going to get too close nonetheless.

The angel swiftly retreated back outside, watching cautiously from behind the bars.

"I do hope you don't plan to do anything foolish now, brute. That...mechanism will go straight back on if you misbehave. That means _no_ biting, angel or otherwise."

Aziraphale didn't pause to see a reaction, walking back to his study despite the stare he felt on his back.

He realized something at once when he entered the room: he finally had information he could record! Information about demons, and how they healed without the use of powers, how fast new feathers grew in after being pulled out, and perhaps even that they could feel cold as his own kind could-when they were injured, at least. It was his duty to not only contain the beast, but learn all that he could about its kind.

Oh, all this time he'd been wasting his days worrying about the state of things, about mending and doing everything right. He hadn't even thought to record any of this, and now he felt incredibly foolish as he picked up a dusty, leathery notebook from a stack of unused papers and began to record every detail about his time with the beast thus far that he could recall.

He knew demons-well, the one in his store, specifically-was capable of losing enormous amounts of blood without discorporation; far greater than any mortal creature he'd encountered. He supposed they didn't quite run on blood or circulation, and wondered exactly what kept them alive; how might their normal biology be effected by a containment sigil?

He began to consider that the beast might be effected by food and water, if the substances might speed healing or slow it down. What of salves, gauze, and medicine? Would they help or have little to no effect on the progress? 

It took a few hours before he was satisfied with just a few pages he'd filled out, erasing and re-writing seven times just to get every detail as accurate as he could. He wondered if it might be a good idea to bring the book with him throughout the store, recording everything as it happened; perhaps it'd be better to save it for the end of every day? If the beast noticed it was being observed, it might withdraw within its cage and then there'd be nothing to learn.

He already missed the warmth of the blanket and wondered if giving the beast the freedom to use its jaw was a completely terrible idea after all. He thought back to when the demon bit him, and how easy it'd be for it to-no, the beast had claws and hadn't tried cutting into him yet, so it must realize attacking him would only result in more harm to itself.

If it wasn't for the intervention from his superiors, though, he wondered what could've happened by now. What would happen now, now that he was becoming so lenient with the demon. Oh, what if he was doing everything all wrong? Surely the beast would be clever enough to find a way to escape even without powers, and he was only helping it along.

The angel realized he'd stopped writing some time ago and was staring off into nothing


	5. Acting the Part

Aziraphale sat with his legs folded under him, lost in a stupor of comfortable repetition. Waves of power went through him, making his skin tingle with its divinity. 

The demon leaned up against the touch, seeming to gain more strength and energy by the day. Soon enough, it'd be completely healed, a few scars left behind if anything. 

The angel was trying not to admit to himself that he'd gone too far with grace; books now scattered the ground, as well as a brush he gave the beast to smooth out the thick mats in its hair, and a few pieces of old food he'd left behind just to see what it fancied, if anything. The demon didn't seem partial to eating, but did enjoy at least pretending to read. He wouldn't really know if the beast could understand what it looked at, but leaving it without any activities to spend its time with sounded too harsh to him. It greatly enjoyed the brush, spending almost an hour just trying to get knots out. Aziraphale might've snuck in a few tiny miracles just to make things a bit easier. 

After the initial unease from the encounter had worn away, and the constant worry of walking into the cage to see the beast on its last breath, the store had finally settled down into a more comfortable atmosphere. In all honesty, it was nice having company, enemy though it may be. It didn't feel obtrusive like the presence of humans or other angels. The place did get awfully quiet and dull when all he had where his own thoughts and an expanse of stories lingering only in his thoughts.

"My, you really are progressing well! There now, is anything feeling out of place, Crawly?" he said, checking once again on its wing for any damage that might've occurred during the night; the creature did toss and turn so. On many occasions he'd walk in to find the beast face-down in a small puddle of its own blood, completely unaware of anything aside from its own dreams. 

"...Crowley." he finally spoke, turning his head towards the now speechless Aziraphale.

For a moment they just sat there in silence, the demon beginning to fidget with his gown under the stare. The angel's heart first stopped for a solid minute, then began beating again all at once with a harsh thud. 

"...Y-you can talk?!" Aziraphale finally gasped, quickly crawling backwards. His face heated up as he realized the demon could not only talk, but most likely understand words. Meaning, he must've heard him all those times he talked to himself, or everything he'd said to his superiors, or-everything he'd said to _him._

That idea made him suddenly very self-conscious, but pushed the thought to the side.

"Crowley, not Crawly. Call me Crowley." he said, voice low and hoarse from not being used for so long. "I like the sound of it more."

"Ah-alright? Crowley, not Crawly. Crowley. Right. So...why-why didn't you speak till now?!" he managed, his tone shrill despite his efforts to remain calm.

"Didn't want to." 

"Then you can understand everything I say? What about books? Can you read?"

"Yes." he looked back with a little glare, though his eyes avoided making direct contact with the angel; Aziraphale did the same. Something about hearing a voice out of the creature made him feel much more vulnerable, and he didn't dare let the beast see the panic in his face. "Don't know what they teach you up there, but believe it or not, we're as intelligent as you. Most of us, anyway."

"O-oh I didn't mean-I'm sorry, I just assumed-"

"That we're like wild animals." he sneered, evidently having heard the sentiment before.

"...I didn't say that." Aziraphale muttered, looking away in shame. All this time, the beast was capable of complex thought, communication, and...he'd kept him locked up in a _cage_. Yes, demons were dangerous, and vile, and a majority quite possibly feral. Even knowing this, he was absolutely ashamed of himself.

He suddenly wanted to be alone, to hide away in his little store forever, like he should've and would've if this hadn't all fallen onto his shoulders.

"S'fine. Nothing I haven't heard before." Crowley muttered, toying with the waves of his hair. Aziraphale began backing out of the cage, suddenly feeling a strong tightness in his chest, as if his organs were being tied into little knots and tangled together.  
His breath was coming out in short puffs, dizziness filling up his head in burning spirals. He struggled out, hiding his face from view and swung the door closed with a loud clang.

He fled back to his study, now his only real solitude, he realized. He crumbled down in his armchair and sat looking blankly into nothingness. Well, that wasn't completely true. He was seeing...everything. All at once. A cluster of colors, textures and shapes of the room around that couldn't find their normal places in his mind. He couldn't focus on any of it, clutching books in hand and squeezing his eyes closed as an attempt to ground himself in the present. 

Surely...caging a demon wasn't an act of cruelty, was it? 

He was an angel, so he couldn't possibly be capable of cruelty, could he? He felt a choking sensation and he wondered what it would've been like if he was in the demon's place: sleeping for months on end in a prison the size of a bedroom, cuts gradually being sewn up by some Heavenly creature that might hurt him at any given moment if he so much as moved too suddenly.

Now here he was, the beginnings of tears blurring up his vision, having prepared to leave the beast in near total isolation for who knows how long just for the sake of _duty_.

_Perhaps he really was cruel._

* * *

Aziraphale stood a few feet away from the cage, looking absentmindedly at a tapestry on the wall, pretending to analyze some hidden meaning in the colors, check for stains and imperfections; in actuality he was trying his best to avoid having to make eye contact with demon sitting opposite him behind bars. He'd done everything in his ability to avert his attention from the beast, from making communication with him in any way.

The demon seemed content to simply watch him go about his days, dusting things over and over, rereading books till every eye began to drift shut- he'd even re-arranged half of the store and added three new pieces of furniture in the past week. 

It simply felt too cramped now, knowing there was an entire other intelligent being in his space. Before he know the beast could talk and think as any other, it'd simply been like having ...an animal? No, no, that only made things worse. He felt heartless at even the notion of such a thing. Yes, demons were bloodthirsty, wicked creatures, but did they really deserve to be locked away for...was it eternity? Was this the grand plan he was supposed to fulfill? Caging something that thought and felt and...

Every time the angel began thinking too hard about the state of things, about the past few months, he wanted to shrivel up into the Earth- perhaps he could, he hadn't tried- but now he had an audience at all times, watching his every move. What a terrible stage he'd found himself on.

He'd hoped to go another day without making his presence too noticeable, sneak through the time quietly and make it to tomorrow, but today he wasn't so lucky.

"Angel." Crowley finally spoke, words grating into him, shattering the silence and making Aziraphale nearly jump out of his skin, quite literally. He fell over a stack of papers in his distraction.   
He whipped his head around, seeing the beast skulking next to the door, head tilted slightly.

"Ah! I-s everything quite alright? Do you need something? If not then I must be getting back to-", The demon waved his hand lightly, shaking his head.

"No, nothing like that. I want to talk." Aziraphale felt his pulse quicken, searching his nearly limitless knowledge for excuses that didn't currently exist. Right, now that the beast could communicate, he'd have to be extremely diligent to avoid falling prey to its lies and temptations. The words of a demon were poison.

"Why would I associate with you, fiend? I have much more important duties to attend, you must already know."

"What duties? I haven't seen you do anything but clean and read the same shi-,"

"Well it's certainly more fruitful than spending my time making pleasantries with the likes of you."

"Now now, don't you ever take breaks, then? Just let yourself relax a while?" 

"Are you trying to tempt me to waste my valuable time in pointless activities that bare no gravity?"

"Touchy, aren't you? See? You'd do well with rest. Maybe you'd learn something." The angel visibly bristled, aware his own argument held no real ground in his head. He swallowed, twitching as he tried to think up a retort.

"Are you...offering information?" he said, almost to himself. Perhaps this really was a chance to learn something. Surely it couldn't be this easy?

"...Sure, who knows what you might find out. Why don't you just come in here and we'll-", Aziraphale took a few steps back, glaring wide-eyed at the beast. Oh, of course. Of course it wouldn't be so easy. He felt small with so many choices suddenly looming over his head, realizing he'd never been in such a vulnerable place before. 

"You can forget trying to lure me into your little trap, fiend! You've gained strength, you hardly need any more healing, there isn't any reason why I should ever set foot back in there with you."

"Hmf, suit yourself then. Shame, really. I could've told you so much, but now..." Aziraphale could actually see the wicked grin spread over the demon's face as his own twitched with doubt in his resolution. How could he possibly go about a situation like this and retain reserved? He was feeling much at once; the excitement of realizing he actually had a chance of uncovering new information, and a fear nearly as strong as the day he met the beast. It was as if an entirely new creature was sitting behind those bars now.

"I can just speak with you out here-", the demon slowly shook his head from side to side, leaning against the bars with such smugness that the angel began to simmer with anger. The beast was only trying to get a rise out of him, surely. Break his resolve, use any flaws in his disposition that could be found.

"Nope, s'in here or you'll never know...", he trailed off, almost looking sad. He most certainly wouldn't be sad keeping all that information to himself for all of eternity, but the angel didn't know if there would ever be a chance like this again, risky as it may be. After all the time he'd spent trying to study the creature, he only knew enough to fill four pages in his notebook. There must be so many answers hiding behind that face, and he just knew eventually they'd all find their way out. "I'm sure those bastards in Heaven would be proud of you for learning so much. If you don't, won't they be angry with you?" Aziraphale jolted, remembering the face that looked down on him with so much abhorrence. Looking down at the failure he was. 

"If you...if you try anything...", the demon waved his hands, as innocent a smile as he could conjure up over his face.

"Of _courssse_ not. Why would I try? You're the all-powerful soldier of Heaven, aren't you? Why would I raise a hand against such a mighty being as you?" Aziraphale flushed a bit, considering bringing a weapon in hand, but at this point he'd been in close proximity with the beast numerous times and he was still alive, so why worry so much now? He may have gained strength, and his wounds improved, but he was still vulnerable, especially without his powers. He would try to escape eventually, but right now it would be too much of a risk for him. 

Still, he put up his guard as he slowly opened the door, the beast slinking back into the shadows against the wall.   
He frowned the whole time, puffing out his chest as best he could. The demon was slim, frail, so surely he had the better chance even if he hadn't the time to bring out his powers in the case that the beast attacked. 

Aziraphale stepped over stacks of books and scattered feathers, standing rigidly with his back against a wall. He watched for sudden movements, body stiff and eyes scanning. The demon seemed to take notice of the tension he was feeling and crept back a bit, though he retained that eerie grin over his features.

"No need to be so uptight, angel. You really think I'd try anything at this point?"

"Of course I do. Do you think I'm going to just relax in here, in here- with a beast of your kind?!" he almost snapped, but was quick to reign in his tone. Any outbursts would be used against him.

" _Shhh,_ loosen up a bit. You want to sit over there? I don't mind." he questioned, pointing to the mess of pillows and throws near the wall. They were nearly black with the soft little down feathers that coated them now.

"Don't say something so ridiculous, please."

"Alright, alright." he groaned, sitting down on the floor, spreading out his wings with a wince and rustling the sleek gown as he sat. "So, tell me about yourself. How long have you lived here...was it 'Aziraphale'?"

"Yes, but...wait, you said you'd tell me-", 

"Patience, Aziraphale. A good conversation should be two-sided, wouldn't you say?"

"What are you planning, beast?" he said, eyes narrowing. The demon simply watched him for the next few minutes, as silent as the day they met. The angel eventually caved to the tension, rubbing his face with embarrassment.

"Very well then, but only a bit. Then you'll tell me something valuable?" The beast smirked and nodded. "Fine...I've been living here for...a little over eighty years? Or perhaps a little under...as you can see, sometimes I lose track of time. It's a concept I never quite aligned with."

"Okay then. What do you do? You know, when you're not reading?"

"...sometimes I-"

"Besides cleaning and studying."

"Alright, so I have a bit of a narrow array of hobbies. Are you just going to sit there and mock me?" 

"No, no. Just...surely there's other things to do around here? Don't you ever go to museums? Parks? Restaurants, or maybe theaters?"

"I enjoy the solitude here."

"Wait, when was the last time you went outside?"

"When I got everything moved in. It took a while to get people to leave the place alone, but I managed fairly early on to settle in..." 

_"Seriously?"_ he said, voice surprised but obviously amused. Was the beast trying to toy with him?

"There's no reason to leave, unless I'm required to. I used to have quite a few tasks I had to fulfill out there every day, but for a long while now there hasn't been any word from Heaven- until you were dragged in here, that is. Before that I spent my time studying."

"Ah, so they _forgot_ about you?"

"What-of course not! Things were just running efficiently enough in Heaven without extra help most of the time, that's all. I play a role like any other."

"Just for, about, a little more or less than eighty-",

"That will be enough of that." Aziraphale said, losing patience. He moved to leave but Crowley waved his hands hastily.

"Okay, alright, I won't talk about that anymore. Sorry." The angel glared but accepted the apology, crossing his arms nonetheless and standing fixedly. "So, what sort of things do like to do? Or, did you like, before you moved in?"

"I...I never really did much for pleasure. I didn't think it becoming of an angel to partake in activities that don't produce any result for the greater good."

"What? Surely you've been to West End or- oh nevermind. It's just...you've been on Earth for so long and you haven't taken the time to explore at least some of what it has to offer?" Aziraphale was silent for a few moments, looking down. He'd never thought he could. All the beauty of the world was surely not his to take part in. 

"...Wouldn't it be a sin?" he said softly, fidgeting with the sleeve of his coat. The demon seemed to open his mouth to say something, but clamped it shut again and looked away. Had he said something wrong? 

"What the _fuck_ do they teach you up there?" he finally managed, eyes abruptly focusing straight in Aziraphale's, catching the angel off guard. He squirmed under the stare, the room suddenly feeling much smaller. "That you can't be entertained or find enjoyment in anything but books in a musty old store? Do you even know what chocolate tastes like?"   
Aziraphale backed further against the wall, wondering if he should just fuse into it. 

"It's not-"

"It's not _what?_ They tell you can't do anything but what they say. They tell you my kind are all like wild animals that need to be locked up...fuck, even the way that bastard treated you, you think any of that's fair? That any of it's all good and holy?"

"It's not my place to judge the affairs of Heaven, nor yours.",

"Please, do you even hear yourself right now? My side may not be much better, but at least I can do what I want. They don't treat me like shit and then call themselves righteous. How long do you think you'll last before they're bored of you? Come on, they'll throw you away just like they did to me." he was smiling now, voice edging into a laugh, but there wasn't a hint of real happiness in his face. His angular face was sharply contoured in little rays of late-afternoon sunlight, outlining clumps of thick scar tissue.

 _"That's enough!"_ Aziraphale screeched, the room beginning to light up and crackle with every harsh breath he sucked in. "I will not tolerate such...indecency. All you can do is lie and tempt, you blasphemer!" he snapped, the demon backing away quickly. The beast fell to the floor, watching him with wide eyes behind his wings.

The angel gasped as a few tears trickled down over his cheeks, legs shaking under him as he gradually slouched against a wall till he knelt on the floor. His limbs felt numb, as if his circulation had been frozen and all that remained was an electrified nervous system. His thoughts were churning, searching for answers he knew should be sewn into his subconscious from an existence of serving a higher power.

He shouldn't be here! He wasn't nearly responsible enough to be given a duty of this magnitude. Everything was all wrong, twisted out of his control. It always had been, hadn't it?

"You think you can defeat me with your little deceptions and distortions of Her will? You disgust me." he spat, even as he began to feel his voice crack, heaving sobs at the back of his throat. His vision began to tunnel, seeing the demon as if he was a shadow on the wall. Every breath he sucked in wasn't enough, and for a moment he wondered if Crowley had found a way to steal the air from him.

The creature was shaking. He saw the holes on the beast's wings, still deep and lumpy. "N-obody lied to me, nobody except you. Everything Heaven has taught me is for a purpose, and-and I have one as well." He saw such horror in his gaze, and knew immediately why: he had been taught to fear angels, and not because of any all-loving, divine justice. She had let him suffer. 

The angel seemed to lose control of his body, hands clawing into his sides and bunching up his vest. His mouth slackened open and he stared at the floor as he gasped for a full intake of air. 

A few long minutes passed, and the demon cautiously crept over, hesitantly reaching out a quivering hand to rest lightly on the angel's hair. He brushed the curly strands gently, watching Aziraphale's face break into a different expression, something colder and lost of reason. "It's part of Her plan, d-amn you. It's all part of Her plan." he choked, repeating the same sentence a few times as if a chant. The hand jolted at his voice, jerking back for a moment as he spoke. He soon clamped his jaw closed as his throat constricted even more.

"Hey, it's okay. It's okay." Crowley said softly, voice small and fail. The genuine remorse in the demon's voice caught the angel by surprise, all the while trying to push the hand aside with a weak, clammy grip. Tangles of long hair fell into his lap, and he caught a strong whiff of the demon's scent for the first time. He couldn't help but try to breathe it in deeply, explore it further. It was so strange without the metallic background of blood; it was beginning to smell familiar, and that notion terrified him.

"Get away from me!" he whimpered quietly, his arms laying rigidly at his sides despite his attempts to move them. Even with his resistance, he felt himself relaxing into the touch and trembled a bit as the scaly fingers tousled his fringe. How easily they could cut into his face, lacerate him into sticky shreds-the angel waited for the first swipe as he realized how vulnerable he was in that position, but none came. He only felt the slight heat of breath as it rhythmically blew against his face.

"M' not going to hurt you." he whispered, fingers pressing down onto his scalp and rubbing in small circles. "Promise."

The room felt so much colder now, his own labored pants filling up his lungs with a sharp chill. His panic had left his body hollow, and the cool air seemed to seep right into him. He had a fleeting desire to sink further into the unnaturally warm touch, shivering as the beast's calloused hand grew more bold; it traveled lower and cupped a side of his face with a hint of fingertips, using the pads to avoid scraping him with his long nails. The creature watched him all the while, taking in the sight of him trembling below. He was being studied.

Aziraphale opened his eyes swiftly, trying to glare at the beast with hatred. The demon flinched at the sudden movement, taking his hand back and letting it fall back into his lap. He watched the angel curiously, tilting his head to the side. He leaned in just a bit, and the angel swore he could hear the faintest sounds of sniffing. 

Perfect! So he was being sized up for the beast's next meal. Perhaps he was just beginning to get back his appetite, and was considering the prospect of a nice mouthful of flesh, blood-and drizzle of angel tears to top it off. 

Crowley inched nearer, eyes illuminating the darkness around. His mouth was slightly open, fangs glinting as he continued to observe the angel below. Aziraphale pressed himself further against the wall, far too caught up his thoughts to consider pushing the creature away. 

"Are you okay, angel?" he finally spoke, jerking Aziraphale out of his slight trance. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make you cry. I'm sorry." His voice had somehow managed to copy Aziraphale's own manner of whispering when he'd been too taken up in healing gushing wounds to worry about how much it sounded like consolation for a creature of his kind. The angel immediately thought of all the rebukes he could spit at the beast, teach him not to talk as though he was in any way capable of real sympathy, but he held his mouth closed. This was nothing more than an act of mimicry, to make him doubt Heaven and-he'd fallen for it completely.

Aziraphale stood up abruptly, walking out and slamming the door closed behind him.

He fled to his study and, for the first time in many centuries, let himself fall apart.


	6. Till the Sorrows Go Away

Aziraphale sat staring hollowly at a wall in his study as the sound of Crowley scraping fingernails against the metal bars echoed throughout the whole store, followed by an occasional "Angel!" that had gone on for the past three hours since daylight broke through. At first he'd considered the demon to be relatively well-behaved, at least when he was bedridden; evidently he was wrong.

He was considering a small miracle to either deafen himself for the time being or silence the beast, but he realized Heaven was most likely already exacerbated by his frivolous use of miracles for the past few months, and had sworn off any more for the moment unless absolutely necessary. 

He knew his face must be terribly puffy from the night, having spent a good portion of it crying and choking out prayers under his breath, but he didn't think the beast had any place to judge. None of it would've happened if he didn't let himself lose control of himself, and if he'd just been a little more reserved. It wasn't quite his fault, he told himself; angels were especially sensitive to the emotions of others nearby, and being suddenly surrounded by all that anger and fear at once, along with his own conflicted state that the beast drew out of him with poisoned words, it'd simply gotten to the best of him-

"Angel! Are you awake?" came the voice once more, hitting his eardrums with a bang. 

He creaked the door open just a tad, trying to get enough of a look to see if the beast was bleeding out for whatever reason, but the demon instantly heard the sound and brightened up, hands wrapping around the bars with a grin. 

"Took you long enough. Wasn't I loud enough, or do angels just have shit hearing...oh, is that room soundproof?" 

"I wish it was...what is it, Crowley?" he grumbled, rubbing his face with exasperation. He was in no mood to communicate with anyone or anything today, and wanted to get this over with as soon as possible so he could lose himself in one of his favorite novels till his thoughts cleared. The demon must know he'd be especially weakened from such an experience, and would most certainly try to use that against him. 

"I want to talk."

"Oh, and I'm supposed to comply after yesterday's little ordeal, am I?"

"Promise I'll be nice." he said, slumping into the door and pulling his face into an exaggerated pout. Aziraphale held his face firm, not willing to let a single hint of emotion show on his face, anything to encourage the demon to toy with him further.

"You spoke ill of the _divine_ , you loathsome creature!" he sternly, careful not to raise his voice.

"Isn't that what I'm supposed to do? Isn't it somewhat part of my job description to spread hate wherever I can?"

"You can forget-"

"I'm joking! Come on now, pretty please? Even demons get lonely, you know. At least ones locked up in cages, that is." Aziraphale felt a pang of guilt and hesitantly opened the door fully, looking away with a scowl even as he came closer. He wasn't giving in to any demands, but he also had to prove that he was still fully in control of the situation. The moment the beast thought he was afraid to go near him would be the moment he'd find a way to use that for his own amusement.

The demon beamed with pride and thumped down onto the floor, staring up at him.

"I know this is just part of your little scheme to escape and go sell information to your side. Don't think for a moment that I'm going to fall prey to whatever lies you try to belittle me with."

"What in Satan's name would I tell them? That my jailer reads books day in and day out? That they have a love of tartan and never see the light of day? _Sure_ they'd find use for all that."

"All it takes is a bit of clever trickery, brute."

"You think I'm clever, do you?" Aziraphale groaned crossed the foyer, sitting down next to the cage with a huff.

"Don't think you can convince me to go back in your confinement after yesterday. I can promise you I'll never be so foolish again."

"What? S'not like I tried to bite you or anythin'."

"You _have_ bitten me. Maybe not yesterday, but you did." he muttered, remembering with a wince the first night he'd encountered the beast and the fangs that sank into him.

"I was panicking _._ I thought you were going to torture me and stick sharp objects all over my face."

"It hurt, you know."

"I'm _sorry_ , alright? Tends to happen easily when you're made like this." he said, flicking out his tongue into the shell of angel's ear, who jumped and swatted at it with his hand.

"Don't do that!" he snapped in a voice a bit more shrill than he meant to. Before, when the beast was immobile with injuries, the angel thought he was getting somewhat accustomed to physical contact. Now, though, the concept that Crowley was an entirely other sentient being that could move independently-and unexpectedly-sent a creeping sensation down his spine.

"Sensitive, are you?" he smirked, smile fading as the angel started to stand up. "Wait, I didn't mean it in a bad way." 

"I am a Heavenly soldi-"

"I know, I just meant- oh nevermind." he muttered, slouching back on the floor. "So, how'd you make such a nice outfit? For a demon, of all things?"   
Aziraphale reddened and looked down, searching for excuses.

"I simply like to do a decent job in all things I can. What, you don't like it?" he asked, genuinely curious.

"No, of course not. I'd never have something so beautiful back home, or in Hell for that matter." he wrapped it around his knees and grinned. "Still, a bit extravagant, isn't it?"

"I'd gladly make something more plain if you'd prefer." Crowley waved a hand in dismissal. 

"No, don't think I'll be able to wear anything else, least not for a few months. I'm keeping this, hope you didn't want it back."

"I...suppose? It's not as if I have use for it." 

"Good, because I would've stolen it anyway." he snickered, turning around suddenly to face the angel, a large smile spreading on his face.

"Oh yes, didn't you want to know something about me?"

"I-well yes, but-you'll _tell_ me?"

"Course'. What did you want to know?"

"Alright then!" he settled down, palms on the floor, staring into the cage with a bright smile. "What plans have you heard from your side?"

The demon looked blank, then confused, and then began laughing till he shook. "W-what?! You said I could ask what I wanted!" The beast rubbed his eyes and shifted closer, voice thick with amusement. "Was this another trick of yours, you dreadful monster?!"

"I meant about _me,_ angel. You think I'd just tell you everything about Hell just like that? Even _I'm_ not _that_ bad of a demon." Aziraphale blushed and looked away, toying at his vest. "Now now, don't get all mopey. Maybe I'll slip up and say something I shouldn't...something valuable, as you say. Who knows?" 

The angel glared but looked back anyway, thinking for a moment. Yes, Crowley was a sly thing, he already knew that, but perhaps even he might accidentally spill something of importance, given time. It was obvious he was already getting comfortable around the angel, underestimating his ability. Maybe Aziraphale wasn't the strictest of angelic beings, but he had a rather good eye.

"Fine then...what sorts of...powers do you have?" The beast looked a bit bewildered for a moment. "Well, you know; from back when you could use them."

"Don't you study this sort of thing?" 

"I always thought it was specific to the creature. Isn't it? I never learned much about that kind of thing...the books I read are all written by humans, and hardly any of them have had real firsthand experience with creatures of Hell."

"Ah, I see. Well...", he focused for a moment, then looked disappointed as he remembered the limitations from the room's sigil. "I _usually_ shift into the forms of animals. I would right now if it wasn't for this blasted..." He trailed off, grinning at the angel's awed expression and puffing up a bit. "What, can't any angel do that? Can't _you?"_

"I wouldn't know, I never tried. Never seemed proper for an angel." Crowley snickered again, rustling the wavy hair till it fell about his face.

"You really don't have any fun, do you? Please don't get mad at me for saying that, s'just the truth." 

"Ugh, it's fine. I suppose I'll have to get used to your...strange sense of humor. In any case, what else can you do?" 

"Ah, the angel wants a bit of a show, hm? Why don't you just let me out and I'll show y-"

"Out of the question." he said without a second's hesitation. 

"Your loss. You could've learned so much..."

"I'm sure I'll be all the better for it. Then, where do you live?"

"Wouldn't you like to know. I'd just love to have a Heavenly brigade show up at my door in the middle of the night."

"...Oh."

"Well, I can tell you that it's cold, dark and bare. Suppose you'd figured that much out already."

"In all honesty I thought you lived in a cave or a sewer, perhaps. Do you?" The demon burst into laughter, slapping his knees and a few tears beading in his eyes. Aziraphale's face grew red, and he waited irritably for the creature to quiet down. 

"You thought _what?_ They really sell that shit in Heaven? Not only that, but you actually _bought_ it?" The angel shot him an indignant look, ruffling a bit.

"How was I supposed to know? Your kind blend into crowds when you want, traipsing around in broad daylight till you decide to cause more suffering in the world. Even then, you know how to hide."

"Fair enough. Still, a cave? A _sewer?_ We have standards. Most of us, albeit."

"Hmf, well at least I know now. I've never really met a demon before you, not so up close. I can't be blamed for making such assumptions, now can I?"

"S'pose not." he muttered through a smirk, slouching back on the floor with a sigh. 

"Well, one more thing for now. What does that does that marking on the side of your face symbolize? Is it some sort of...curse?"

"My wh-oh. No, it's nothing like that. I just like it because-"

Aziraphale jolted as he heard a fizzle of energy rock through the room, and the familiar sound of Gabriel's formal greetings coming from his study.   
He knew he had only moments to prepare, whipping his head towards the demon who instantly lost all ease and looked at him with wide, desperate eyes, hands clasping at the bars. 

"Get back and stay quiet, I'll take care of this." he whispered a bit louder than he meant to, waving his hand as the archangel walked into the room, seemingly emptying the room of oxygen with every step.

"Oh, pleasant to see you again. Isn't the weather lovely today? Perfect for a picnic or-", His superior raked his eyes over the cage, now filled with books and a few other trinkets strewn about, then back at him with a look of disappointment. "Ah, you see, I couldn't get the beast to shut its contemptuous maw, so I was forced to give it means of entertainment. There was no other way, I assure you."

"You gave it _entertainment?_ You're kidding, right?"

"As I said, there was no other way. I-", The archangel walked closer and inched nearer to the cage.   
Aziraphale manifested his wings instinctively, creating a glowing curtain between the two of them. 

"Of course there is. Haven't I told you already?" he said, making ripping motions with his hands. "It's not difficult, I promise. You get used to it. All that crying they do, it fades to quiet soon enough, and then they're easy to manage." The angel felt nauseated by the memory of Crowley's screams when his wings were torn into. If such a fate ever befell the beast again, he didn't know if he could forgive himself for letting it happen. 

"It won't be necessary. The creature's as tame as a baby without its powers. Just a little noisy sometimes, and that isn't a problem for me. I really don't mind."

"Noisy? What, does it stand around yelling and grunting all hours?"

"He's-it's begun to say a few things. Not useful or interesting, but-",

"...Wait, it _talks_ to you?" Aziraphale's heart began pounding in his ears, despite his recent attempts at retiring the thing completely. It felt nice to breathe, to take long, relaxing breaths on sunny afternoons, but at moments like these it was only a hindrance. 

"Oh! I mean, not quite. It's-it's really just gibberish. I suppose it mimics my words, is all." He suddenly felt worried for the creature. If the archangel knew it could speak, there was no telling what kinds of torture his superior would try to get information out of the beast.

He realized he had just lied for the first time. Not only that, but to an archangel. 

"...So, what you're trying to say is you still haven't learned anything?" he slowly shook his head, rubbing a finger over his forehead. 

"I'm quite sorry, sir, but the process is a slow one. These beasts are tough to work with, to be sure. Soon enough I'll learn something; perhaps one of its friends will try to come and aid it?" The archangel looked confused, then laughed deeply. 

"You think this monster has _friends?_ Please, I thought you knew they weren't capable of it."

"Ah, well I mean, um...peers. Associates. Others who want to rescue their kind."

"Of course not. None of them would ever risk trying to help another demon escape captivity-nor do they care. Its simply like losing a strand of hair. There's plenty more what that came from." Aziraphale suddenly felt cold, wanting to rub his arms for warmth. Did the beast matter that little? Surely not. Surely somebody cared that he was missing.

"When I check back again, you better have something." That was all he said before there was a beam of light, and he vanished.   
Aziraphale took a long breath of relief, and looked back at Crowley, who sat huddled up against a corner, enveloped by his wings. 

"It's alright, you can come out." he said softly, watching the beast unfold from its useless hiding place. He didn't bother scolding himself as he walked into the cage without care for his previous statements about staying outside. He settled down next to the demon, who was shuddering and twitching as he tried to regain himself. 

"...Is it true? That nobody's coming to save you?" he whispered, watching a flash of something dismal cross the beast's face, disappearing behind a blanket of indifference once more.

"Course', thought you knew that. S'everyone for themselves. You really think we give a shit about each other? You really are naive, aren't you?" The angel didn't bother to feel offense from the statement.  
The beast slowly unraveled and extended a wing outwards to him. "I think my wound's beginning to open up again." he said, turning his face away. 

Aziraphale quickly felt over the patch filled with the beginnings of new feathers, finding only the trace of hardened flesh where they'd been torn from. There was nothing damaged, so what could it possibly be? Did he miss something? 

"Where? I don't see anythin-", The beast pushed his wing further into Aziraphale's hand, looking farther away. 

"It's right there, can't you see it?" The angel felt a bit longer, but realized the demon's meaning as he relaxed his body against the wall and leaned closer into the touch. 

"... _Oh,_ oh of course, how could I be so dense! It's right here." he said with a show of surprise, brushing his fingers against the softness and rubbing in circles. He brought up another hand and began stroking through the obsidian with all the gentleness his hands could provide. The demon still looked away but he could feel waves of happiness wash through the room. He smiled and spread his hands further, listening to the creature sigh blissfully.

Aziraphale would chide himself for giving such treatment to the demon later, but he couldn't stand the bleak atmosphere if he could help it; the anxiety of the encounter faded soon enough, replaced by the soft gush of comfort and contentment. 

He bent over to mutter into his ear, "My, this is damaged terribly. Why didn't you say something sooner?" 

He heard a loud intake of breath, the beast suddenly shooting up and walking to his bed, quickly settling in and cocooning himself once more.   
"Yes, y-ou really saved me from bleeding out just now. Thanks for that." he murmured into the pillows, a slight hitch in his voice.

"Of course. It is, after all, my duty to care for all the injured, demonic or otherwise."

"Right, course. I-um, I think I'll be needing more healing, from time to time. Is that-alright?" Aziraphale wanted to chuckle, but right now the beast sounded so vulnerable that he held his tongue firm.

"Certainly. Your wing looks so terrible right now, who knows how long it could take to heal completely." he said with a prim voice, nearly missing the tiny choking noise from the demon, who peeked his eyes out from under the mass of feathers to look up at him as he left. 

"Oh, and...one other thing."

"Hm?" 

"Thanks for...you know, not telling that bastard about me." Aziraphale felt a wave of both guilt and warmth as he remembered the lie. 

"It's fine. Normally I wouldn't...stoop to lying to avoid certain consequences, but in this case...well, it seemed only proper."

"Nobody could blame for you for it." Aziraphale turned backwards to head towards his study, a bit flushed."Thank you, s'all I mean. Really." he muttered, voice fading into nothing as the angel left the room. 


	7. Earth's Smaller Delights

Aziraphale stood stacking books neatly in order, three times over- trying "refresh the room" as he'd said- all the while chattering mindlessly with Crowley, who paced back and forth in his cage.

The store had taken on an golden glow from the extra lamps he'd turned on, a bit brighter than Aziraphale normally liked it. Even with the windows shaded and boarded, he still felt as though someone might see in if he lit it up too much. It was Late January, and despite the cold he kept himself active, having re-arranged nearly every piece of furniture he had in the past week. 

"You can't possibly mean you've never tried _anything_ in all your time here. That's just not possible." the demon scoffed, using a fingernail to scrape a line into the wall with a loud screech. The angel glared in the direction of the noise, pausing to come up with a rebuke.

"I-I tried some fruits back when I served in Eden, but beyond that...no." the angel huffed, setting a jar of pens, pencils and a few other accessories down with a thud. "Do you take enjoyment out of undermining my routine?"

"Really? What'd you try?"

"I don't know- it was so long ago- I think a few pears, an orange...there might've also been a dragon fruit thrown in the mix, but after a while I began to feel so gluttonous, so I stopped. I loved tasting everything so much I was lacking in my guard work. Surely you realize the issue."

"What would you even have to guard? I can't think of a safer place than Eden. Besides, could you be blamed for slacking off a bit? For getting a quick bite to eat after a couple months?"

"I wasn't having a 'quick bite', my dear, it was more like...hours spent lazing about, just trying out different things, getting my robes all messy with the juices. It was very unbecoming of an angel." The demon was quiet for a minute, and for a moment Aziraphale wondered if he'd said something wrong. Perhaps the mental image was disgusting even the beast. He felt a flash of shame, ducking his head down and looking over a crumpled piece of parchment more closely.

"I sure am glad I fell, sounds like you haven't had a single bit of fun since the day you stepped foot down here. Really, there are so many things to try, so many things to experience, and you've just followed orders this whole time!"

"As I should. Who's sitting in a cage right now?" He regretted the words as soon as they left his mouth, beginning to stammer an apology as he looked over at the beast.

"Pff, you think something like that is really going to offend me? Do you even know how tame you are in comparison to the shit I hear on the daily?" the demon grinned, waving a hand. "I think you've forgotten how much time I've spent in Hell."

"Still, I shouldn't have even thought something so hurtful. I'm sorry." he said softly, bowing his head.

"Sss'fine, like I said. You're such a touchy little angel. How do you even handle living down here, with all this shit going on the time?" he chuckled, twirling a finger in a vague gesture. "You only have to glance at new headlines to see the worst in humanity these days."

"I hardly do. Why do you think I've stayed in here for so long?" The demon grimaced and looked down, raking a foot across the floor. 

"...Did something happen? I mean, s'not like you have anybody else to tell."

"It's...not quite like that, exactly. You see, I've watched so many humans live and die, and after a while it begins to weigh on you. I've tried to befriend a few people in my time, and with every attempt their lives would eventually run out, and that would be that. I know they're not technically gone, but...I stay here. Life goes on, and you just exist outside of it all. So it feels better if nobody knows me. Do you understand?" The beast was silent, looking at him for a few moments. Aziraphale turned back to cleaning, feeling a bit awkward for saying so much at once.

"I get it. More than you'd think...same's happened to me. Still, there are things to enjoy out there."

"What's the point if I'm just enjoying it by myself? I shouldn't have that sort of privilege."

"Privilege? How's it a privilege? N'if you need company so much, why not just dine in a restaurant, go to a drive-in theatre or something like that? Humans love to mingle, and at the same time you wouldn't have to worry about getting attached to anyone."

"Well, I...because I see all these people sitting with friends and family, smiling together and sharing stories and food, and every time I try to sit down near them I just start to feel embarrassed. They're all so put together, laughing among themselves and having such a lovely time..."

"You're _jealous_ of them?" he said, voice rising with amusement. " _You?_ An _angel?"_

"Oh, if you just want to taunt me today then at least say so." he grumbled, grabbing a duster to reach the top of a bookshelf which creaked as he pressed a hand on the shelves of it. 

"No, no, I get it. You're lonely, s'what you're trying to say." Aziraphale's chest stung a bit and he whipped his head around to glare at the beast.

"I'm above such silly concepts. Why would I feel loneliness? I have all the books I love right here, in a store I cherish dearly-and my hands can work miracles. There's no reason to be ungrateful any of this."

"S'not being ungrateful, angel. In fact you probably have more reason than most humans to feel lonely. Just look at yourself, cooped up in a dim shop day in and day out, never experiencing anything more than sore eyes... did one of those bastards up there tell you that you didn't deserve to feel anything at all?" The angel flinched and threw down the duster, picking up a book and pointing it at the beast. 

"Those 'bastards' could've easily smited you down, demon!"

"Please, you're still defending them? After everything they've done? How they've treated you?"

"It's not my place to question their ways, nor yours, brute." he wiped his head with the palm of a hand and walked to sit down on a bench, letting out a deep sigh. "It's all part of Her plan."

"Keeping me locked up all day is Her plan? What kind of plan is it? That maybe, just maybe, after a couple thousand years I might accidentally say something I don't mean to? Isn't She _all knowing?"_ Aziraphale opened his mouth to reply, clenched fists against his knees and shut it once more. 

"Oh, just quiet down, beast. Won't you give me peace for a while?"   
The demon stopped talking, and the only thing disturbing the silence for the next half-hour was the specks of dust flickering in the streaks of light from the windows, a few cars that drove by outside, and a group of children evidently playing a game of Hopscotch nearby before they were ushered away by chattering parents. 

Aziraphale began to wonder if he'd been too harsh, about to try to apologize once more.

"...Say, why don't you try something today? What's to stop you?" Crowley spoke first, a small flicker of something hiding somewhere behind his smile.

"Try? What do you mean?" he started, finally turning back to face the beast.

"I mean go buy yourself some sort of food. I don't care what, just go find a market and buy something that catches your fancy."

"Oh yes, and leave you here so you can run off while I'm away."

"How exactly am I going to do that? My powers are gone, and these bars won't budge. I'm as helpless as a baby. A human baby, anyway." The angel started to come up with a rebuke, but then thought for a moment, rubbing his chin.

"...I haven't left in so long, surely I'd embarrass myself. I don't know their customs now, how they talk to each other. Things change."

"I know, but it shouldn't be all _that_ difficult. Just observe people around you and copy them. If anything, you'll come off as a social degenerate, or a senile old shopkeeper that knows nothing about current fashion. There are worse things."

"I'm not so certain about that..."

Aziraphale slowly got up, walking over to an old mirror he hadn't looked in for years; he hadn't changed much, clothes a bit wrinkled but otherwise in normal condition. He brushed a few specks of dust out of his hair and thought about the possibilities.   
Surely the beast would try to escape. He'd find a way with the angel gone, and that'd be that. He'd have failed his duty to guard the beast, perhaps be punished harshly, and yet...

_Was it really such a bad thing to happen?_

There was a nagging, greedy part of his conscience that wanted went against his own morals. The idea of the creature staying locked in a cage till _possibly_ it gave some kind of useful information, then perhaps being smited away into nothingness...it made him feel sick, the idea worse than any punishment he could think of for himself.

Being forgotten in a box, only used for knowledge, then thrown away. Just like She-

What was worse, failing his duty or causing the suffering of another, corrupted as they may be? He couldn't live with himself if any more harm befell the demon. Not again. 

He walked back over the to cage and looked in, the beast looking back curiously.  
"I'll go, if it'll earn me some silence. Just...don't you try anything while I'm gone, beast. I have a firm watch over you no matter where I go." he scoffed. He didn't pause for a response, already straightening his suit and, with the slightest flick of his hand, the seal on the cage unlocked without a sound. 

* * *

The world shifted and stuttered, swirling around as, for the first time in many years, Aziraphale phased into the outside world. Leaving through the door was not an option; at this point if he tried to, there would be no 'haunted house' cover he could live in peacefully anymore. People would come to the store, ask questions...this wasn't a pleasant form of transportation by any means, but it was his best option.

He ended up in a long, dirty alleyway a few blocks away from his store, a few cats hissing and running away, one drunk human waving a hand wildly at him before passing out. He carefully set person upright as best he could, creating a substantial amount of money to hide in the person's pocket for when they woke back up. Hopefully they'd buy some clean clothes with it.

With a sigh he slowly started his trek across town, shuddering from how different everything appeared. Structurally, not much had changed; the people, though, definitely had. He stayed hidden from view behind a stack of trashcans, observing a few humans walk by. Their style of clothing had changed, to be sure, but it wasn't so drastic that he couldn't fit in somewhat. He'd never quite matched any society he tried to blend in with, and hopefully he'd get away with a few odd looks. He considered changing his clothing to something more fitting, but had grown dreadfully attached to his current outfit. He had always passed as an eccentric sort, perhaps a lover of vintage.

The walk was quiet, passing a few people talking, snickering at him as they passed. If that was the worst that would happen, maybe this wouldn't be too difficult. Not like that hadn't happened before. 

The sun was something he'd missed dearly; he paused for a moment to look at the sky once more. That shade of blue that couldn't be replicated by any artist, the wisps of clouds that fused together and tangled in rays of light; it had always stunned him since the beginning. 

He kept his eyes attentive for any sort of marketplace, suddenly aware of the dangers in everyday life as cars sped by and a dog ran past, chasing a squirrel. The sounds were almost overwhelming. Screeching, whirring, barking, honking, shouting, clanging...it was always so muted from his little haven, and now it was everywhere, blaring into his head.

He felt compelled to cover his ears, heart rate picking up, but then he noticed a cafe with wonderful smells wafting out, and all sense of unease gave way to relief and curiosity. A sign with a coffee cup flapped in the wind, and as he opened the door a little bell rang, making him jump. It was certainly different than the diners he'd peeked into back before his retreat into hermitage. 

People sat at tables covered in steaming mugs and plates of breakfast, a few staring as he passed; he'd like to get this over with quickly. The eyes of humans seemed to grate into him, peel under his skin. No, no, no-this wasn't safe, the people could be-

A human greeted him as he walked in, and he managed a smile but otherwise tried his hardest to appear busy so as to avoid any further communication than necessary. The selection, as he walked up to the windowed counter, was absolutely lovely. Large pieces of cake, bread, muffins and pastries of all kinds decorated the shelves, and for the first time he allowed himself to view them in full curiosity. He'd only glanced at such things in magazines and advertisements, never so up close.

His heart was beating faster as he realized he'd have to choose something, and quickly, as more people lined up behind him. All he could do was point sheepishly at one particularly large tart covered in berries and custard, hoping he wouldn't have to talk in order to make the purchase. Perhaps, since he already looked completely out of place, they'd simply assume he was foreign and didn't speak English very fluently.

The cashier smiled politely and gave him the total, making small talk as he simply nodded and attempted to grinned, silently miracling the amount he needed into his shaky hand that he darted into a pocket. 

He snatched the purchase that was wrapped securely in a paper bag and nearly ran back out, ducking his head as more people watched him leave.   
The journey back home was much quicker, stopping only to avoid being run over by a speeding car, and made it back to the same alleyway which, from what he could tell, offered the most privacy on account of the rotting smell that permeated in the air around it. He remembered it now, from far back in time, before he'd gone into hermitage. It was how he'd gotten into the store to begin with, once it was all boarded up. Even the alleyway had changed.

The drunk person he'd encountered earlier had just begun to wake up from their stupor, pointing once again and yelling something that got drowned out as they began vomiting. The angel grimaced and once again flashed out of sight, back into the store.

* * *

As soon as he manifested back in his haven, he breathed a long sigh of relief, finally able to relax in the familiar comfort of the place. He set down the bag on the floor turned to the cage.

It was completely empty.

He ran over with a gasp, flinging the door open and looking around wildly. 

Why did it matter if the beast was gone? He'd wanted this, he'd wanted the demon escape and be free from its cruel fate and...  
He began to quiver, not even wanting to begin to think about the punishments he might receive for being so careless. Why did it feel so cold? 

The shop was quiet, eerily so. He stood there, realizing that for the first time in nearly half a year, he'd be completely alone. He had nothing to do but reread the same books, clean the same shelves, waiting to be needed by Heaven. _If_ use was ever found for him again. Maybe he'd be cast aside, deemed worthless, thrown away just like-

He heard a rustling, and looked up to see Crowley staring down at him and grinning, on the ceiling. He unlatched the claws that kept him fastened in, wings spreading as he shot down on top of the angel. 

Aziraphale screamed, expecting to be torn apart, bracing himself for teeth to come crushing into his face-but instead he heard cheerful laughter. He dared to open his eyes and saw the demon smiling smugly down at him. Curly strands of hair fell down in his face, golden eyes gleaming with amusement.

"Really had you going there, didn't I? Did you even hear yourself?!" he cackled, slapping the ground with a hand. 

"C-Crowley! You're not-", he whimpered, realizing the beast must've not even noticed he could escape, so accustomed to being locked in; still, there was no stopping the tears that began to drip around his eyes as he squeezed them shut. 

"Wh-Aziraphale, what's wrong?" he quickly moved aside, pulling the angel up by the arm and rubbing his shoulder carefully. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to scare you. Well, not much anyway." Aziraphale turned away, trying to wipe away the tears quickly. "You did take a bit of a fall-are you hurt?"

"No, no...I'm alright...I just didn't expect that. H-how did you even get up there?" 

"Oh, well turns out my wings work well enough now-ah, not for long flights or anything, to be sure, but I can do this." he said, a gush of wind nearly knocking the angel over as he flapped his wings, momentarily levitating off the ground. Aziraphale wobbled a few feet away and thumped down into a chair, watching in a relieved stupor. Crowley looked over at the bag he'd tossed on the floor. 

"You actually bought something, did you? Have you eaten anything yet?"   
The angel pushed himself up, wobbling slightly as he walked over and brought it back into the cage. He kneeled down and looked down for a moment, the demon waiting curiously.

"...Is it um, correct to ask if you'd like some as well?" he muttered, feeling a hand around inside the bag and bringing a slightly crumbly tart into view. "I don't know exactly what it is demons like to eat, you know. It's just...it'd feel wrong having it all to myself." he managed, feeling his face turn warm.   
The demon stared at him, and began to toy at the bag with his hands.

"You want to... share that with me? Really?" he said in an amazed voice.

"Ah, I suppose it _is_ dreadfully wrong to suggest allowing a creature of your kind-",

"Oh please, don't even try taking back what you said." he grabbed the tart and broke it in half with a soft crunch, a few crumbs and a blueberry falling down onto his lap, speckling the gown he wore. He handed a piece to the angel, waiting to see a reaction before taking a bite himself. 

Aziraphale looked at it with curiosity, turning it about in his hand to see all the textures and colors. He carefully slid out his tongue to taste the jam center, lifting up a dollop to feel around in his mouth.

At first, there was hardly anything. Then, he closed his eyes in bliss at the rush of flavors. He didn't know the names of any of the things he was discovering in every receptor, but he was excited by the sensation of layers that collided into even one piece of food. He paused, feeling shameful for indulging. "No, I shouldn't have any more...oh dear, why did I buy these?" 

"Come on now, you went all that way just chicken out? You've earned it." 

The angel paused for a moment, before quickly bit into the entire piece of the pastry, heart thrumming with delight and lifted his eyes to see the demon watching his every move. 

"Please, you have to try it. It's _wonderful."_ he sighed out, pushing the piece closer to the demon with one hand and sucking on his own messy fingers with the other, which were now coated in powdered sugar and jam.

"You like it then?" he breathed out, shifting a bit as he watched the angel wiggle with happiness. 

"Yes, I never could've imagined- oh please, do hurry. It's so unloved." he said, pointing at the piece the demon held rigidly. He looked at the piece, then back to Aziraphale, and set it down on the floor. The angel pouted slightly as he realized he'd already finished the last of his portion, so taken with the taste.

"...Would you like it? I think my-er, demonic sense of taste would prevent my from enjoying it properly." he said with a slight smirk, inching it closer. The angel gave a fake look of surprise, beginning to reject the offer, but soon caved and shoved it hastily into his mouth. He lapped at his fingers and relaxed his head to one side, staring dreamily into nothing.

"I _have_ to get more." he murmured, "It was...it was quite scary outside, I will say, but no amount of noise or crowds could keep me from more of this wonder."  
The demon chuckled, leaning against a wall. "Oh Crowley, there's so much to-it's so soft and smooth and-what is all this?"

"I'm pretty sure that's what you'd call 'sweet'. It's made with sugar-you know, it comes from a plant. A few other things, but mostly sugar to be quite frank." 

"I've heard of it, but I'd always assumed it'd be so coarse, perhaps chip my teeth the moment I bit down on it." 

"A dentist might argue that, but no."

"So...all those things they had at the shop, they're all like this? Well, I hardly know how to describe it... I remember the fruits I'd eaten back then, but even they didn't taste so ...strong?"

" _Sweet,_ you mean?"

"Yes!"

"You'd say it was...nice to experience something, then? I mean, outside of reading and-",

"Yes! Oh, my dear, I never knew something so marvelous was so close by where I've lived so long and...I think I'm going to have to go back tomorrow." he said, pulling a look of determination that made the demon chuckle. "I think...I think I'd like to experience lots of things. If you're sure it isn't wrong to, I mean. Oh, what am I saying, you're trying to get me in trouble, aren't you? Of course you are. You're a terrible influence."

"Well of course it isn't wrong! Unless you mean it to be. You think She created all these things to be ignored and overlooked?"

"I suppose not...but still, you're sure I'm even allowed any of this? I feel as though I might become quite insatiable in everything if I let myself indulge anymore." 

"I can assure you, you've as much a reason to indulge as any human down here-more, to be honest. S'not like there was any sort of guidebook provided for what to do and not do for us, now was there?"

"You're right, I hate to admit it but you're right. Oh, if I get into trouble for this..."

"Then you just say I tempted you into it, right? That wouldn't technically be untrue."

"Yes! You're just a disgraceful beast that drew me into your immoral schemes."

"Yes, good! Now have some more, before they get too cold." 


	8. Easing the Burden

In the months that followed Aziraphale's excursion into some of Earth's little creations, not only had he become quite attached to trying new things but he had become quite popular in the cafe that he now frequented every week; at this point he'd nearly bought at least one piece of everything edible he could get his hands on. The store owners had come to the conclusion that either he had a large family or threw parties quite often, and were doing their best to keep up with his frequent purchases. So far he'd only explored the contents of the small coffee shop, but he had his sights set on other places around that he'd soon discover the wonders within. 

He'd quickly realized he'd have to be clever with where and how he left the store and transported into the outdoors, almost every time encountering a human or two he'd have to re-write the memories of. Each time had its obstacles, but he considered the reward far greater than the hassle.

It was on a chilly March day that he'd just gotten back from a particularly fruitful visit, having brought back a large sack filled with milk bread, honey-almond pastries and a steaming cup of cocoa. 

Crowley sat patiently by the edge of the cage; all part of the routine. Sometimes he'd nibble on something just to see what it tasted like, but otherwise he left the angel to indulge himself-who appreciated the company nonetheless. 

"I don't know what to do with myself anymore, honestly." Aziraphale murmured between bites, a few crumbs falling down his chin, "I never imagined I'd have so many options to choose from-there's so much in this world I've been neglecting-and I've discovered something called a 'weekly special'...meaning there's almost always something new to try!"

"If you hadn't waited so long, do you think you'd be bored of it all by now?"

"Never!" he said with such reverence he surprised himself for a moment, blushing a bit at his excitement. "Thank you again, Crowley. I'd never have let myself enjoy any of this without your, ah...suggestions." he trailed off. 

"It's alright, you can just say that I _helped_ and move on." The angel flinched, giving the beast a sharp side glance.

"I wouldn't call it...that. In any case, tell me more about yourself. Like yesterday-before I got distracted by the pie. What do you do with your time when you're not causing problems for society?"

" _Hmm,_ s'hard to say. Sometimes I'll just stay in and wait for something to pique my interest out in the world. Sometimes I'll take long drives without thinking about where I'll end up-don't you _dare_ say you're surprised demons can drive cars-, and believe it or not I actually have quite a few plants growing in my place. It's not nearly impressive as your collection of books, but it's something to tend to, anyway."

"Really? I'd never have taken you for the type." Aziraphale said with a smile and slight head tilt.

"Ha! N'you don't strike me as a zookeeper, and yet here we are." The angel winced. "Ngk! Didn't mean it like that, sorry. In any case, they're all most likely wilted beyond repair by now...I'll have my job cut out for me when I get back." 

" _When_ you get back, hm?"

"Course'. You really think you'll be able to contain me for much longer? You've said yourself that I'm clever."

"Clever enough to make it past the celestial forces keeping your powers at bay? Clever enough to get past my watchful eye?" he said smoothly, his gaze glancing over to the door of the cage that had been unlocked for some time now. The demon perhaps wasn't so clever as he'd like to think.

"You hardly have watchful eyes, angel; they're far too busy looking at words on pages. If anything you'd make it easy for me, almost offensively so. I'd honestly prefer more of a challenge. Though, whatever curse you put on this room, I'm sure it can be bypassed."

"It's not a curse, dear, you know that."

"Spell, miracle, whatever. Doesn't matter. All kinds of traps like this have cracks somewhere in them, and I just have to find it."

"Find what? It's invisible, Crowley. You'd be searching for nothing. Do you even know the power of my superiors? Even my own abilities are mere child's play compared to theirs."

"I could've escaped, and would've, if one of those bastards didn't get lucky at the last second and go right for my throat." The angel shivered at the memory of the cut. He began to knead his fingers together, tugging at the fabric of his sleeves.

"...What would you do if you _did_ make it out of here? Would you simply go about tormenting people the rest of eternity?"

"You underestimate the evil that lives in the majority of humanity already, angel. I hardly have to do anything to get the ball rolling, trust me. Sometimes I just watch them ruin themselves, never even lifting a finger. As for what I'd do, I don't know... s'not like I've had much to do for the past hundred years or so. Just whisper in an ear or two, act like I tried, my side'll buy it. You'd be surprised how much gets past them."

"Really, what would you do right now, if you could do anything?" Crowley thought for a moment, scrunching up his face. 

"You sure like to daydream, don't you...ah, can't say for sure. Get out of this cage, for starters. Then, show you everything this spell holds back, just to see your expressions."

"Ah, so you'd...kill me. Tear me limb from limb. I could've expected as much." he said with a sigh, biting down into a slice of bread he experimentally dipped into his cocoa, soon grimacing at the sogginess.

"Wh-no! What'd be the point in that? Finally I have an audience. I could give you all the first-hand experience you could dream of, couldn't I? Imagine all you could learn about my kind."

"Like how fast your claws sink into my face, hm? What the fires of Hell feel like when they're being injected into my veins by those teeth of yours?"

"Satan, what's got you feeling so grim today, angel?" Aziraphale shifted and looked down with a sigh.

"...There has to be a reason we treat your kind this way. Why you're locked up in a prison right now. Otherwise, how can I consider myself a benevolent being? The way you've been cut up, all bruised and bloodied, thrown down and locked away-oh, do forgive my rambling, I know I'm not making sense." Crowley stared at him for a moment, swallowing.

"...Doesn't seem like there's much a difference, does it? I've never found much more evil in Hell than on Earth; never much love in those who're supposed to be made of it. I mean, if you're going by the logic that we're dangerous, then sure, lock us up; but then, shouldn't we all be caged? Everything that can kill with a snap of a finger...seems like we're all a bit too deadly for this place." Aziraphale chuckled, though there wasn't any happiness in his voice. "Really, though, I'd enjoy showing you what I can do if you'd like to know. I doubt there's much of a difference between the two of us; maybe I could show you what _you_ can do, in a way."

"Hm?"

"You're as capable as I of anything I can-oh, nevermind. Sorry if I soured your mood."

"I've just been feeling a bit down lately, is all. I suppose it's the dreary weather." he mumbled, a soft patter of rain beginning to echo through the store. The wind was slowly howling, and it only made the Winter's chill a tad sharper.  
The angel set the bag of food on a desk and watched the demon shiver a bit, a quilt draped around his shoulders vibrating with each movement.

"Aren't you cold? It's freezing in here. Do you need any more blankets? Perhaps I could make you something warmer to wear."

"I'm pretty durable, believe it or not. Besides, you really have to stop being so nice to me. Won't it get you in trouble?"

"Hm, I doubt it, at this point. I'm sure they'd prefer I'd cut your wings off entirely", he said, watching Crowley flinch and feeling a knot in his stomach form at the thought, "but I have my own way of doing things."

"What're you- what're you even gaining from any of this? You really think I'm going to give you any life-changing information to work with? Perhaps you'll solve the _big secret of creation?"_ The angel was already concocting a few ideas for warmer outfits, wishing he had a point of reference beyond his own experience.

"Who knows what I might find out." he said with a small grin, turning away to tidy up the crumbs he'd spilled on the floor.

"I won't make it easy for you, to be certain."

"Oh, I know. I do enjoy a good puzzle every and again." 

* * *

Harsh winds blew outside, battering sleet against the bookstore. Aziraphale had cautiously cracked open a window in the night to let in a few threads of air, shivering from the currents but appreciating how the store freshened up a bit.

In their time spent together, the angel hadn't learned anything of great importance, anything that he was sure his superiors would approve of; even so, he enjoyed getting to know the odd little things that entertained the beast. 

Crowley didn't seem to care much for reading- not his long novels, manuscripts or biographies in any case. He did, however, like to sit back and listen to the angel read aloud his favorite stories time and time again. Aziraphale told himself he was doing this as a sort of creative pastime for the demon. All creatures, holy or not, were deserving of mental enrichment- no matter if they were thousands of years old already. Besides, he never bored of going through the same passages that he'd grown to know dearly.

So far he'd gone over the essentials, a shine in his eyes as he picked up dusty renditions of long-forgotten comedies and tragedies, memoirs and tales of adventure in far-away places. He'd even tried opening one of his many renditions of the bible and reading a short passage out of _Genesis,_ but was quickly cut off with a hard glare. 

The angel sat comfortably against a wall in Crowley's cage, running his hands over the beast's wings which had wounds that had miraculously 'opened up' again, apparently. Between strokes, he looked down at a book in his lap, _Pilgrim's Progress_ , his words turning to whispers as he realized the demon was beginning to nod off against a pile of pillows he'd stacked up for the occasion. He smiled, gently smoothing over the area between the beast's shoulder blades. 

" _Mmm,_ don't stop." Crowley murmured into the cushions, waving a hand in the air dramatically. 

"Thought you'd prefer a nap after all this boring reading." Aziraphale chided, pausing his hands and crossing his arms. He brought his eyes up from the pages, looking down at the creature with a soft huff. "There's no point if I'm the only one enjoying it."

"I _was_ enjoying it, really. Positively riveting stuff."

"Can you name any of the characters I've mentioned? Perhaps some semblance of plot?"

"Wasn't there a...a...alright, so I blanked out a little. Can't be blamed for that, can I? It's so cold today...just breathing makes you feel like you've run a marathon."

"Right, right. All the same, I can just leave this here, then, and you can read it when you feel awake enough to do so." he said, placing the book on the floor beside the beast and standing up to leave. The demon made a feeble attempt at grabbing one of his shoes.

"Don't leave, not while you're getting to the best part!"

"Crowley, do you even know the title?" he scoffed, lifting the book up and patting it a few times with a glare. 

"I can tell by how you were talking that it was getting good, getting all impassioned...seriously, is there something about you angels that puts others to sleep by just talking around them? It's like that time I chugged a bottle of whiskey and a vial of absinthe in ten minutes, minus the blackout."

"I'll take that...as a compliment? Anyway, I've been spending too much time re-reading books. I need to get back to studying. In case you've forgotten, even I prefer not to idle my days away like this. I really do have work to do."

"You call that work? What more could you learn from those boring old books that'd been written based on assumptions from silly little scientists, or scholars-or whatever they are- than you could from observing me? I'm a walking specimen."

"Of course, dear, but you're also refusing to tell me anything of actual importance. Anything that Heaven would find important, anyway. Mgh, I really thought I'd be discorporated last time Gabriel showed up for a visit. You could see the disappointment in his face; it was utterly humiliating."

"Who gives a shit what he thinks? I don't see a semblance of logic in the bloke, the absolute fu-" 

" _I_ do- and please don't speak of my superiors in that way, you're going to get us both in trouble!"

"What're they going to do? Lock me up? Already got that taken care, I'd say."

"You could be killed- and I mean really, wholly and completely exterminated."

"If they didn't do that yet, you think they'd do it now? I'm not even sure they can; even if nobody in Hell gives damn I'm here, I'm still Hell's property. Might get into a little legal trouble, as it were."

"All the same, you really shouldn't play with-well...fire, I'll you'll excuse the pun." The demon choked back a laugh.

"You worry too much, angel. Believe it or not I can put up a bit of a fight, and I'm certainly not going to let myself get kicked around again. I messed up, I'll admit, but I learned my lesson. I shouldn't' av' gotten so confident."

"...Crowley, how even did they catch you? And _why?"_ Aziraphale whispered.

"They're bored, I assume. Need something to catch and contain so they feel useful, s'not like they can do that to humans. As for how...s' a long story. Let's just say it involved having one too many drinks and an amusement park. Trust me, you wouldn't want to know the grisly details. There was a _lot_ of blood."

"I can imagine. Oh, I still can't believe they treated you that way." he muttered, sitting back down and grabbing one of Crowley's pillows to hold close to his chest. "We're supposed to love all of Her Creatures. Well, as best we can, anyway. I can't understand how they could hurt you. It just doesn't make sense."

"Those bastards will justify anything they see fit. Mhf, s'not like they're much better on my side. I'm sure they'd beat me to a pulp if they could, but at this point I know who to avoid and how. I had less experience with your kind, s'all."  
Aziraphale sighed, breathing in the scent of the demon that lingered in the padding he pressed to his face. 

"I still don't understand it...surely She has good reasons for this."

"Yeah, I don't need any more of Her reasoning fucking up my life. If she decided I deserved to be locked up in a cage and nearly bleed out, I don't want to even try to comprehend Her logic."

"Oh Crowley, you can't say that- I'm sure there's some sort of-"

"Will you let the whole 'everything happens for a reason' shit go already? I've already fallen into the depths of Hell, I don't need any more of Her meddling. As far as I'm concerned, She threw me away and never gave me a second thought." He paused as he heard sniffling, seeing Aziraphale's eyes begin to fill with tears behind his soft barrier. "Wait, shit, don't cry! It's not your fault, angel."

"I can't-t help it...I can't imagine having to endure any of your pain, you poor thing-", he sobbed, rubbing his eyes with his sleeves, "You came to me so pale and bruised and red with blood..."

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to sour your mood like this!" he started, grabbing the bottom hem of his gown up to wipe up the tears now steadily streaming down the angel's face. "I'm alive, aren't I? You made sure of that." he looked away for a moment, Aziraphale sniffling a bit but calming down. "I've never properly thanked you. You could've easily left me to bleed out, or tortured me till I couldn't move or think, but you've only been kind to me. You're the only angel I've ever met that's acted like what an all-loving being should." he twisted up his face, gulping. "So anyway, thanks, s'all I mean." 

Aziraphale looked at him with a small smile before breaking into tears again. "Fuck! what do I keep saying wrong?!" Crowley grumbled, gathering up his gown to wipe away more of the trails coming down the angel's face. 

"No, no, you've said nothing wrong. _I'm_ the one who should thank you, Crowley. I've been so worried, thinking I only caused you more suffering." The angel cupped his hand over one of Crowley's, managing a shaky grin. "You've given my mind some ease. Thank you." 

The demon tensed under the hold, swallowing. "Yes, well anyway, you can thank me by finishing that story." he said, pointing to the book laying open on the floor. Aziraphale smiled warmly, picking it back up. 

"Of course, of course. As long you don't fall asleep."


	9. Under a Watchful Eye

Aziraphale sat absentmindedly staring out a small sliver of the window that remained uncovered, watching a few flurries of late-season snow beading the windows and creating a rather thin coat on the sidewalk outside. It was nearing 3:00AM, the lights of the store turned off for the night; it gave a sense of normalcy-at least in his opinion. His study was the only room that remained aglow throughout all hours.

His skin prickled at the chill of the air, but he didn't bother wrapping up in a blanket or willing away the sensation for the moment; in a way, it felt nice to be so cold. Everything was so quiet, so dark and dormant, it felt good to be a part of it in a small sense. 

He tilted a small alabaster figurine in his palm. The cold stone felt soft and smooth to his skin. He circled indentations of a face that he knew from memory was smiling into nothing, and wondered what had been going through the mind that had given it existence so many years before. He regarded it for a moment, all the time and thought that'd gone into it, from an idea to reality, and all the way to his own possession. Carvings, books, works of art; they all reminded him of Her gifts. Imagination, expression, creation... Even a small child could scribble to convey emotions, give voice to feelings of joy, anger, despair...all of it sort of blended together in his mind; the universal experience of living and feeling, unique to every soul in their own ways.

The angel was abruptly pulled out his trance by the sounds of scratching, then a long string of sobs and strange muttering that was unintelligible to his ears. He turned around in his seat, walking up to the railing of the upper level and looking down on the foyer below. 

There was silence for a few moments, soon replaced by more scratching, and then faint whimper. He quickly placed the figurine back down on the roll-top desk he'd picked it from, descending back down to seek out the source of the noises. It was nearly pitch black all around, and he used the slightest of miracles to light his way. 

Crowley lay rigidly in his cage, half on the cold floor; the pillows and blankets surrounding were a mess, some fraying and turn from teeth and nails tearing through. _Was he cold?_ Aziraphale began to wonder if he should create a few new quilts, perhaps give the beast a proper bed-there was nothing wrong about allowing the creature a good night's rest if he could help provide it.

The demon was scraping his claws into the floor, fingers arched up and trembling. The angel realized he must be dreaming, and began to turn around and let him rest, till a loud scream rang through the store. 

Aziraphale whipped his head around, chest tightening with concern and eyes automatically scanning for a wound that could've torn up somehow, or some kind of threat he hadn't sensed in the surroundings. 

Crowley shot up from the ground, eyes stretched wide with fright. Upon seeing the outline of the angel, he drew in a harsh breath and darted back in the cage, imprinting himself on the wall. He began crying desperately into the darkness, voice sending chills through Aziraphale. The frantic weeping haunted the angel's ears, and he hesitantly pulled open the door of the cage.

"Crowley?" the angel whispered, slowly walking closer, "What's wrong, my dear? What's wrong?" The demon breathed harshly for a moment, pulling his face from under his arms to squint at the angel in confusion. 

"Sorry, fuck, I didn't-I didn't know where I-was, just then." He sniffed a bit, turning his face away. "Didn't mean to bother you. Just had a nasty dream, s'all." 

"Oh you poor thing..." he started, kneeling down and unconsciously running a hand over one of his scaly shoulders. He was incredibly tense, muscles pulled tight. He flinched a bit at the touch, wondering if it was a bit soon to give the demon any kind of contact."It's alright, you're safe. Nothing's going to hurt you." he started gently, feeling the demon hesitantly shift into the touch. The angel grabbed a blanket and extended it in offering as he felt the beast shiver beneath his hands; Crowley pushed it aside. "Aren't you cold? I could make-"

" _Ssssshut up."_ he hissed, grabbing the angel's hand from his shoulder and shoved it into a wing he unfurled with a loud rustle. 

"...Ah, is your wing hurting again?" The demon hastily nodded, crawling out of the corner enough to extend the appendage fully. The angel smiled softly, moving to run his hands along cold secondaries. "Alright, let me take care of this." 

The miserable feeling in the room began to soften, replaced by a comfortable serenity as he smoothed his fingers into the plush feathers. The demon's breathing slowed to a soft hum, the rapid heartbeat replaced with a quiet thump.

"That's right, it's all alright now." Aziraphale spoke into the silence, surprised for a moment as Crowley shifted and he was knocked softly onto the blanket that still rested nearby, the wing gliding over him. He found himself covered by the thing, hands free to explore into the silky surface, much to his delight.

He sighed blissfully, face nearly enveloped completely by feathers that felt wonderfully tender and warm. "Mmm, look at this...how terrible this cut is." he spoke, knowing full well the wing was almost fully healed over. "Why didn't you tell me sooner?" 

As the angel talked, down feathers tickled against his face, and he couldn't help but grin. He reached an arm to wrap over the outside of the wing and bring it closer, lifting his face to nuzzle into the softness.

He felt a ragged puff of breath beside his cheek, and turned his head to see Crowley lying on his side, watching him with eyes that glowed slightly in the dark. 

"Oh, I'm sorry...I couldn't help myself, your wings are so lovely." He started to remove his hands from their velvety places, but was pushed farther down by the covering. 

"Please, stay here. Don't stop." the demon murmured, a hand reaching out and clutching at a side of the angel's vest. "You're doing nothing wrong."

Aziraphale started to chuckle, but felt the hollow despair emanating from the beast; it felt so strong, so real right beside him. He wouldn't have the heart to leave till it faded away, and he would make sure no more nightmares poisoned the demon's mind tonight.

* * *

Crowley grumbled as Aziraphale shifted under his spread wing, the demon pulling himself upright and grimacing as he tried to stretch out the stiffness of both his wings and muscles. The angel in turn grunted at the soreness of his back from only having the blanket as a barrier between himself and the cold floor. The frigid air hit his face cruelly after being burrowed under warm feathers throughout the night.

Slivers of frosty light were peering in through the windows, though darkened by clouds, so it was difficult to determine the time of day.

"Mm, do you really need to get up today? It's so cold and dark; we could just sleep. Sleep till it's warm out." Aziraphale had to admit, the prospect sounded quite nice at the moment, but he had to push the notion aside for the time being, overtaken by a wonderful idea had came up with just as he arched his back to loosen the tendons. 

"That would be such a waste of beautiful day!" he tried to reason, wondering just how much beauty there was to be seen on one as deary as this, all the while absentmindedly fiddling with primary feathers through his fingertips. The demon flopped his face back down into a pillow, trying to block out the light a while longer.

"Beautiful as a fucking freezer. You need to learn how to hibernate; it'll save you so much misery." 

"I'm quite happy with spending my time awake and productive, thank you." The angel got to his feet, feeling a surge of energy as ideas began to fill his mind. "Yes, yes..." he muttered, looking around and imagining how he might re-arrange the space surrounding him. "I think this will work nicely."

"I know you like to talk to yourself sometimes, but if case you've forgotten, I am still right here." Crowley groaned, tilting his face to watch the angel move about and mumble to himself.

"Oh, sorry, I just-would you move over here for a moment please?" he said, pointing to the doorway with a grin. 

"Ah? Sure, I guess, but what're you doing?" 

"You'll see!" he chirped, clapping his hands together with excitement. When the demon crawled aside, he walked through the room, stretching out his hands to mentally measure the length of some imaginary object. "Oh, this is going to be-yes!"

"What?" Crowley complained, trying his best to study the strange entity before him. 

"You see, I thought maybe-if you behave- I can finally let you out of that dreadful cage! Of course, you can't just go sauntering off. I've put sigils all over the store so you still can't use your powers, and every way out is locked with keys that only turn by my hand-but you can finally stretch out in the open here." he said with such joy it took the demon a moment to process even the general idea of what he was talking about.

"All I caught was 'cage'?" 

"You can come out!" he said, swinging the door of the cage open with a wide smile and facing the bewildered Crowley. The beast only blinked at him, eyeing the angel suspiciously.

"Wait...what?" 

"You can come out. You can't leave the store, but aside from that this whole place is alright for you to walk around in. I spent the past week preparing; I'd hoped you wouldn't notice so it could be a sort of surprise."

Crowley stared at him, eyes darting outside the cage suspiciously, as if he expected a trap to be set for him just a step outside the door. He crept cautiously to the exit, placing a careful foot on the floor just ahead of the cage. He looked back at Aziraphale, who grinned brightly at him.

With a gulp, he took two steps ahead, pausing to look around, then back to Aziraphale once more. The angel beamed as he watched the demon slowly and quietly pad around the foyer.

"You must be terribly stiff, spending so much time all caged up in one small room. I'm terribly sorry you had to put up with it."

"It's really nothing. I've slept for hundreds of years at a time."

"Wait-really?"

"Ah, nevermind-I can just...walk around... _anywhere_ in this place?"

"Um, I'd prefer a bit of solitude in my study when the door is closed if that's quite alright. I tend to like quiet during my long reading sessions-but yes, anywhere." The demon vaguely nodded, in a daze. He looked at the wood floor under his feet, gradually spreading out his wings fully for the first time since he'd set foot in the place. The angel watched in awe at the beauty of them, now free to unfurl completely. He realized how massive they were when unrestricted by space.

He turned around with the first genuine smile the angel had seen from him, suddenly thrashing his wings and causing a gush of air to speed at Aziraphale, making him stumble backwards.

"Oh-shit, sorry!" he said with a giddy laugh, pulling the angel to his feet. "I couldn't help it."

"Ha! I'm glad they still work correctly, my dear. I'm sure they're sore, it was terribly cramped in there for such things."

"Worse than you could imagine. Fucking _Heaven_ , angel. You're sure this is alright? Won't it get you in trouble?"

"I don't think so... at least not very much-since I've made the place into a sort of cage, you see, as you can't use your powers. As long as you can't go gallivanting off to cause more mischief, there isn't any harm in a bit more elbow room."

"You call this _elbow room?!"_ he said with a laugh, turning around in a circle a few times, the gown swishing and gleaming against the brighter lights all around.   
The angel walked back to his study with a hum, sitting down in his armchair and flipping open a book to a random page, giving the demon time to explore in privacy. There was a gradual warmth building in his chest as he felt a smile that wouldn't unravel creep onto his face. This was such an easy solution, in hindsight. Why hadn't he thought of this sooner?

The demon eventually walked to the entrance, timidly peering in the doorway. "S'it alright if I...?" he mumbled, pointing vaguely around with a questioning look.

"Oh, yes! Sure, come on in." he said, looking up and quickly cleaning up a pile of papers laying in a mess on a nearby desk. The beast grazed his eyes over the study, stepping around little nick-knacks the angel had accumulated over the years.

Aziraphale set his book down, giving up on trying to focus with his excitement, and stood near the doorway to watch.

"What do you think? It's just that, well, nobody else has really seen this room other than myself all these years-well, aside from Gabriel, but he wasn't exactly interested, as you could probably tell."

"It's beautiful. You put this place together yourself?" he muttered, running a fingers along bookcases. Aziraphale puffed a bit with pride, looking down at his feet. 

"Most of it was with the use of miracles, and a bit of luck. I'd hardly call it fashionable, but it's what I consider home." he said with a soft grin. Crowley sat down roughly in his armchair, jumping slightly at the softness of it. "Sometimes this whole place is a bit bigger if I need it to be, so don't be surprised if it looks different from time to time."

"That's hardly a shock, considering-oh, am I allowed to sit here?" He felt a wave of guilt, remembering he'd been confined to a cage for so long. He must feel incredibly vulnerable out in the open, hardly knowing what might get him punished again. 

"What's mine is yours, as long you treat it gently." The beast blinked at him, reaching behind himself and grabbing a blanket that sat at the top. It was a pale blue, woolen throw; something he'd collected many years before, and had yet to part with. It was dreadfully battered and pilled at this point, but he felt a little too sentimental to change a thing about it.

"This too?" 

"Of course. You're welcome to have it." 

"Wait, _really?_ I can just take things as I please?"

"Certainly. As long as you treat them with care and don't lose anything- though I doubt you'd even be able to-take as you like." He watched the demon walk quickly back to his cage, dropping the blanket in with the rest of his make-shift bed. Aziraphale wondered if he was at this point developing a little collection of things he considered his own property despite their shared living space. If it helped make the place more comforting, more secure, he'd let the beast take anything he pleased.

"Oh, right! Where would you like to sleep from now on? I can make you a new room, or perhaps turn the cage you've been in into an _actual bedroom,_ with a real bed and-oh, but that wouldn't feel right, not after-"

"My room's fine."

"Ah...alright then." He hesitated, but soon flicked his hand, and with a crackle the cage's inner walls grew even further, taking on a brighter hue and dimness fading away as new lights popped up on the ceiling. By the time he'd stopped it was even a bit larger than his own study on the inside; the architecture had long since lost any ounce of its original, human-made limitations.

"I'd...give you a window to let in some sunlight and fresh air, but you know..."

"It's fine, I don't normally keep the windows in my flat uncovered either. Never felt safe next em'. Besides, can't have people looking in and seeing some winged bastard...might think up some strange conclusions." The angel chuckled at this despite himself.

He created a proper bed with a frame and mattress, adding in a few extra blankets for good measure. He stopped himself before customizing the place any more, realizing he'd most certainly done too much already. _Could_ this get him in trouble? There was no doubt, but he couldn't allow the poor beast to live in such a state any longer. Perhaps he was becoming careless, but right now seeing the expression on the demon's face took away any fear he felt bubble up inside him.

All he'd brought into the room already lay in a neat pile near the bed, and he let a wave of pride flow through him; yet, even with these little improvements, he felt vile. Keeping the creature contained was not right, no matter where he came from, no matter what he was. 

* * *

The beast walked through the room slowly, admiring with every step. 

"I know it's quite bare, but I didn't know how you like things situated, or-ah, not that you deserve a _suite,_ of course, you evil thing- but I thought you could tell me what's right and what you'd like changed- within reason, of course!"

"..."

"...Is everything alright? I suppose I threw this all together without so much as a thought, I can change whatever-"

"Why're you being so kind to me, angel?" he abruptly turned and faced Aziraphale with a hard stare. 

"I'd-hardly call this 'kind', my dear. It's just...well, a bedroom- the minimum one could offer, really."

"It's not that. Don't give me that 'It's my duty as a Heavenly solider' shit, either. What is this, some kind of trick?"

"Well I...did I offend you? I didn't mean to, if that's the case." The beast rubbed a hand over his face with a sigh. "Oh, I suppose none of this would suit you. It's all so old-fashioned-I always make things as _I_ like them, hardly thinking of others."

"It's not that. You're going to get caught. Punished. I can't imagine any of your higher-ups would take too much of a shine to seeing me all pampered in a room of my own."

"I know, but I'll-I'll figure something out. It's hardly a luxury; merely a place to sleep. Maybe I could say you wouldn't shut your mouth till you got what you wanted? Whined all day and night till I simply had no other choice then to give you this."

"I guess, but still...in everything you've been doing, there's just too much-you're being far too nice, angel, and it's going to get you in trouble sooner or later." Aziraphale waved a hand and made the barred door disappear, a new wooden one taking its place. He still felt giddy with happiness from the change, and couldn't be bothered to worry about a thing at the moment.

"It's in my nature, of course. Anyone could understand that, right?" The demon took a few steps toward him, glaring. 

"What did I just say? You're not listening." He came closer. 

"You mean about my nature? There's no lie in that."

"I don't care what makes you tick. You just keep handing out mercy without care or thought." He was a foot away now, eyes raking into him. Aziraphale thought of taking a step back, but held his ground. "Would you do this to others of my kind as well? Do you have any idea what they'd do to you?"

"Are you trying to intimidate me, beast? It's not going to work, you know." he huffed, turning and beginning to check over the room a final time to make sure it was satisfactory. 

"Wouldn't dream of it." he muttered, suddenly lashing out a hand and grabbing him by his collar. The angel stumbled back, but Crowley forced him closer, holding him tight at the shoulders. In a second, he'd locked an arm around his back, hovering his teeth just above his neck. Aziraphale could feel the sharp points graze over his skin, ready to break the barrier like little knives, breath ghosting out a growl behind them. He stood still, twitching under the hold.

"...You see?" the beast finally whispered, moving back to meet his eyes once again. "It'd be so easy to cut into you. If I was any other demon, you'd be ripped to little angelic shreds by now. You don't know even I'm not going to any day now, that I won't feel like taking something living apart when the mood strikes. That's in _my_ nature, angel."  
Aziraphale swallowed, unable to keep his gaze connected with the beast's for long, turning away with a shiver. 

"Why haven't you, then? If it's so easy, then why don't you just tear me apart, take your daring escape? Surely you have no morals against such things." The demon paused for a moment, loosening his hold and walking back over to sit down on the new bed with a sigh.

"Fuck if I know. Guess I've gone a bit soft over the years. Can't be blamed, you're not the worst of company; it'd be a shame to cut you up." The angel still stood in his place.

"...To be quite honest, I've been waiting to see you disappear one day. Even without your powers, I suppose I thought you'd somehow find a way out." Crowley looked at him for a moment, wincing. "Is it really that hard for your kind? Don't you have some kind of-"

"I _will,_ just don't feel like it right now. I'm enjoying the vacation off of work. Gets tiring, doing terrible deeds all the time." he grumbled, laying down and placing his arms behind his head. "Why would I run away for now when I can get treated like a king by a soft little angel?"

"Of course, you mighty beast. How could I be so blind to your evil schemes? I'll have to keep a closer watch on you, now that you've proven your abilities." The demon chuckled at this, turning away his face to hide the smile. 

"I'm sure I've still got plenty of surprises waiting for you. You're dealing with forces beyond your comprehension, angel."

"I must remain vigilant. Thank you for your warning, beast. I was getting too comfortable around your corruption." he really felt like there should be meaning behind his words, even as he joked, but there was only a light-headedness that lingered and a slight tingle in his chest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have mid-term coming up in the next week so updates will be slow, sorry in advance!


	10. Remedy for Monotony

It hadn't taken long for the demon to accustom himself to the new living arrangement, finding comfortable places to rest in even the most unlikely of places. As much as Aziraphale had done his best to make sure the beast knew the various chairs, benches and sofas were readily available, he seemed to prefer the tops of bookcases, the narrow railing on the upper level of the store and laying upside-down on the arms of couches; in a few instances, Aziraphale had even found him sleeping right on top of large heaps of books, once neatly arranged and organized. He supposed the hard scales scattered over his back provided some protection from sharp surfaces- that or he just ignored the discomfort.

Everyday was a challenge of wits, a spiritual battle- the angel would like to think so, at least, given the amount of questions Crowley hurled at him regarding himself and his interests. Whether it was to extract information about Heaven or lower his guard was unknown to him at the time. Because of his affinity with truthfulness, he had no choice but to answer honestly, though choosing his words carefully. Anything could technically be used against him.

Despite all this, he'd long since relaxed into the routine, and, though he wouldn't admit it as such, enjoyed the company. 

He was certain to have given into temptation in some ways, due to all the countless liberties he'd allowed the crafty demon as the days went by. He'd found a rather outdated magazine beneath a stack of books and given it to the beast to decide what sort of outfit to create for him, and despite the demon's hesitation to part with the beautiful gown he already wore, he'd ended up pointing at an equally dark outfit of a plain turtleneck and trousers- which was created with a female corporation in mind, and in his current state, with the inability to alter his form at will, it some a few adjustments before it fit quite right. 

The angel fussed a bit about making it comfortable as he could, but Crowley waved a hand and said, "Sss'fine, it feels just perfect. You need to stop stressing about little things like this, angel. Is tailoring another one of your hobbies?"

"No, it still doesn't look quite right- doesn't the fabric scratch a tad? Oh, maybe if I just-", he muttered, studying the picture from the magazine for the eleventh time in the past half hour, "No, it needs more stretch, a bit of give right under your arm-say, could you move slightly to the right?" Crowley frowned, but complied, having resigned to be a model for the remainder of the morning. "Is this warm enough?"

"It's already midway through Spring. If anything it's _too_ warm. Besides, I still have those blankets you gave me; they do a fine enough job by themselves." 

"I still feel so awful about making you stay cooped up in that icebox for all those months, my dear! Let me do this much for you. I can always alter it however you please when you ask me to." 

"Fine, fine. Don't say I didn't warn you when you have to mend it over the months. I'm not very careful with these things."

"It would be my pleasure." Aziraphale said with a warm grin, and Crowley gave up any other doubts he had with a long sigh. 

* * *

Sure enough, warmth did begin to leak into the store before long, just a few weeks melting away the last of ice sticking to the sidewalks and the first flowers popping up in cracks in the cement.

Aziraphale would like to think he had complete peace of mind to enjoy the beauty of Her creation, every once in a while leaving the store to find new types of food and drinks to bring back and letting himself pause in a nearby park to bask in the lovely rays that fell down through the clouds.   
He also would like to think he was having a positive influence on Crowley, trying time after time to convince the creature to at least skim over his favorite portions of the bible or other popular works of Christian literature, but he was soon finding it a lost cause; he was always reminded of the fact that the demon had already fallen, and there was no going back. 

The thought of this kept him from ever feeling completely at ease, as well as the notion that one day he'd return and he'd find Crowley beaten to a bloody mess just as the day he was brought into his safe little life. 

He'd grown too accustomed already to having another being in his living space, and it was important to remind himself that this was not going to last forever.   
He didn't know what was going to happen or when, but eventually the demon would leave him to his solitude, and it would be best to stay busy researching all that he could. 

Thankfully, even if Crowley refused to truly comply with his questioning about all the ways and secrets of his kind- which didn't honestly surprise him-, he had learned more in the past year with the beast in his company than years of researching through books could adequately supply. 

Of course, he could simply be telling lies to further lead him in the wrong direction, which prompted him to write all his answers in notebooks to be sorted through when he was alone, but even the most vague of responses clarified some of the mysteries that had frustrated him since the beginning of time.

It came as no surprise that a majority of the information provided in books was completely inaccurate, which again the angel was hesitant to believe, but found Crowley at least quite good at proving his point with enough logic to fill books; indeed, he was determined to do so, and keep this information for safekeeping- rather, of course, give to his superiors when the time came. As was his duty to do so. 

He had no use for all this research himself; it was certainly interesting to learn all that he could about the alleged truths the demon spoke of, but when everything was said and done, the angel still had a part to play and would play it.

"I can't believe you thought any of that was real, honestly! Put a few drops of some biological concoction into a dish, say a few words and, what, that's going to somehow create a line of communication with creatures from different dimensions?! I suppose you also believe in Bloody Mary." Crowley cackled, clutching his chest from upstairs while Aziraphale stood below, glare fixed on up him.

"I never said I 'believe' any of it. Of course I know any sort of subject to do with the occult is filled with mere superstitions and false experimentation." he grumbled, twirling around a spoon in a cup of coffee, nearly dropping it as he sat it down just a bit too close to the edge of his desk; he'd moved it to the middle of the foyer for now so he wouldn't have to keep calling out his words for the beast would hear. Crowley seemed content to force conversation out of him today, so he tried his best to make himself comfortable in the current arrangement.

"Why'd you keep all of it then?" the beast questioned, leaning out over rails above with tangles of hair falling towards the ground below.

"What else did I have to go on? I need to keep any source of information, realistic or otherwise. I can't be sure of what's accurate, but it's best to be safe."

"How do you know I'm telling the truth? You could be scribbling a whole lot of gibberish in those little books of yours, wasting your time away completely."

"As I've said, it's best to be safe. If there is any merit to your words, I intend to keep it on record."

"Heh, should've been a lawyer. Keeping everything I say so you can use it against me."

"...I was one once, but that's besides the point." he said, beginning to erase something with a frown. "Every bit of information can be valuable to the right being, and, after all, the truth will always find its way to the right ears."

"Can't you tell when someone's lying? From what I understand, you seem to have a knack for seeing right through people. Or into them, should I say."

"Sometimes, but generally only when the person is already at war with themselves. The energy around them fills with a terrible sense of shame. Of course, that only applies to humans; as you know, I've hardly ever interacted with any of your kind before. For all I know, you could purposefully pretend to lie just to throw me off from the truth."

"How about I promise I'll never tell a single lie from this day forward? Swear on Satan, pinky-promise, whichever you angels prefer?"

"Ah, was I supposed to sense a fib in your words just now?"

"No, really. Don't really see the point, s'easy enough just to keep things to myself if I don't want to dance around the details..."

"So then you're implying you've lied to me before, many times." he said with a slight chuckle, taking another sip of his drink and leaning back to stretch out in his chair. 

"Only once or twice, like back when I told you I'd have no important information to sell to my side once I got free." Aziraphale jolted slightly, looking up with wide eyes at the grinning demon. 

"What?! What could you possibly-", Crowley snickered again, walking away from the railing to pick books out of their places and set them about in messy piles. 

"Relax, angel. Though I will say you haven't exactly been good at keeping secrets to yourself. You keep all your research in such easy reach- not that there'd really be any valuable shite in any of them. Not to mention you go off on rambles about _Her_ will, _Her_ design, Her this and Her that. I'm sure there's something I could use, anyway."

"Oh, don't say such things. I've only just begun to let myself even release my muscles in your presence; I suppose I've been letting myself relax too often. Haven't been careful enough." 

"Well, I certainly wouldn't mind. You let yourself get careless, have a break why don't you? All the better for me."

"I'm sure you'd like that, brute." he muttered, finishing the coffee, and setting it back on a shelf, which thankfully hadn't been upturned and "redecorated" by the demon yet.

"Goodness, I suppose I am not cut out for this assignment; it hasn't been a long time that you've been under my watch and already I've let you-out, just wandering around like this!"

"It's still just a cage. Bigger, more stuff to play with, but I'm stuck in here till you make a little mistake one day-and oh, _you will,_ sooner or later" The angel groaned, closing his eyes and fully laying back in his seat.

He felt dreadfully restless in the store with all the warmth beginning to find its way in. He'd greedily reach for every ray of like that could pass through any slit uncovered through the windows. The shop itself felt smaller because of it, more like something truly abandoned and not filled with years of comfort and living.

"I know, I know. You've no need to remind me. Believe me, I'd prefer you didn't have to stay contained in here like this, but what am I supposed to change about it? If I simply handed you over to someone else- someone stronger, wiser than me- you'd surely face worse suffering than when you first came into this place. Oh, maybe I could put in a good word, say you'd be quiet if-"

"You could let me go."

"I-out of the question! You know this, Crowley."

"Nobody'd have to know you let me, I could keep it a secret and tell nobody who'd kept me locked up! Sure my side wouldn't appreciate the angel responsible."

"Dear, please. What then? You go back to your usual routine of ruining lives and-and I get the blame. I get thrown away. It's not something I can do myself, you know that."

"...Fine, it was worth a try." Crowley grumbled, scratching a line into the wall with a long screech. Wallpaper crumbled under his hand, leaving behind a mark Aziraphale didn't bother undoing at the moment.

"Maybe I deserve to be thrown away." the angel whispered. He drooped his head a bit but otherwise stared blankly into his mug, which looked somehow duller than it had just a few minutes ago.

"Hey, I was only joking. Don't get all serious on me now, angel. How am I supposed to enjoy this sunny day when you've got a rain cloud floating over your head?"

"Really, if I've done wrong, I shouldn't run from it. I believe...I've done something, either keeping you locked up, or being too lax with you, or... I'm sure Heaven will be so displeased with me, spoiling a creature of Hell with space and pastimes, but I feel-oh...I do wish She'd answer when I ask Her what to do." The demon was quiet for a moment, finding a patch of sunlight poking through a window and stretching out in it. 

"Told you that you worry too much. Look, I don't like being in here any more than you like being pushed around by those bastards upstairs, but s'not something with much of an answer. If you want to be completely technical about it, you can't really do wrong. If everything's part of Her ' _oh so_ _amazing_ plan', then you're only doing what you're supposed to do anyway."

"I'm sorry to bring you down on such a nice day; I get so caught up in my thoughts."

"S'fine, better to get it out now. You get all quiet and mopey when you're holding back things in that celestial little head of yours." With that, Crowley spread his wings and glided down to the main store area. A light fixture bobbled as feathers almost knocked it out of the ceiling, and the demon cursed as bits of dust and debris from old paint fell to the floor below.

"Please, my dear! You can simply use the stairway, you know."

"Not fast enough." he muttered, coming to prop his elbows on the back of the chair Aziraphale sat in. "What're you writing?"

"I've told you, I've many things to study."

"Is it about me?" he said with a grin, leaning in to try and decipher the messy handwriting.

"Some of it. I'm trying to compare what I've already read over the years with your input. There's quite a lot to go over."

"Boring." Crowley groaned, grabbing the book out of the angel's hands and walking back to his room. "You call this 'research'? This is torture! Rest your bloody eyes for a while, angel."

"Give that back! You've no use for it-none of it can verified, as you've said. Also, didn't you just say it's boring?"

"I'll just skim through to see the bits you wrote about me, obviously. I'm tired of lying around day in and day out. I can only read so many books before I want to do _something_ else, and you're busy with this, so-", he said as he thumped down onto his bed, flipping through the pages.

"You-you beast! Give it back, you might tear it with your claws- or perhaps that _wouldn't_ be an accident." Aziraphale huffed, quickly walking after him. 

"Wait, wait-ah, here! 'The creature has dark wings that resemble that of Heavenly creatures, has golden eyes that-' ", Crowley started, turning so he was barricaded by his wings as the angel tried to rip the book out of his grasp, "'-shine in the darkness as a ray of sunlight'. Ah, isn't that coming in handy now?" he snickered, feeling Aziraphale begin pulling at his wings. "Oh, I like this part- 'Even without powers, the creature possesses great strength, perhaps akin to-"

"Enough of that!" the angel snapped, sinking his hands into the bed of feathers which soon relaxed into his touch, slackening enough for him to pull them aside and retrieve the book as the demon was temporarily sedated by the attention. He tried to snatch it back, but the angel swiftly retreated, heading back to his study.

"Come on now! S'not fair, I was enjoying that. More fun than I've had for months-what, you're going to lock yourself up in there? Don't be all testy."

"I'm not angry, beast. Just disappointed." he retorted, slamming the door closed and locking it before the demon could follow. Crowley stood outside, slumping to the floor. "What's gotten into you lately, anyway? Oh, perhaps now that you've gained your strength back, all your nature to cause chaos has as well."

"Ha! I'm flattered you think that highly of me, but honestly I think I'm going to discorporate from sheer boredom if we don't do something different for a change."

"What exactly did you have in mind?" Aziraphale wondered if asking was such a good idea as soon as he spoke. "Within reason. I'll have no part in condoning any sort of unholy-"

"It's about time! Well, you've been so busy studying me all the time, and you need to relax, don't you? You've been reading nearly every moment without fail for weeks, and your hands have been awfully twitchy lately. I keep catching you daze off into nothing."

"I-suppose I should take things a bit slower, yes...but what's that got to do with anything?"

"When was the last time you got _blackout drunk?"_

"I-Crowley!" he gasped, "I appreciate your concern about my well-being-or rather, how entertaining I am to you at any given time, but that's simply not ethical."

"Why? S'just alcohol, you could clear it out the moment you feel too lightheaded, though that really is the best part." he said, going back to raking fingernails against the wall, much to the angel's annoyance.

"Well...I do have a small bottle of-"

"Drank it already."

"Wh-How did you even find it?!"

"You're not at all good at hiding things, angel. You really thought the stove was a good hiding place? Anyway, it tasted like shit to begin with, so why don't you go buy some more? Different kinds; there's so much you haven't tried!"

"I-no, no. I can't."

"Just this once. I promise you'd have fun, and I'd leave you to your reading afterwards. I'll be quiet, give you all the time in eternity to study to your heart's content."

"...I...suppose." he finally grumbled, pulling his coat closer against himself, "If you absolutely promise to to behave."

"That's the spirit! What do you say to...tonight?"

"No, no. Tomorrow, I really am frightfully busy right now; I simply can't force myself to break focus now." he said truthfully, looking down at the book and feeling all the ideas he had converge in his brain, desperate to be written out and organized. "In any case, don't get your hopes up, demon. I'm not going to have more than a taste, you can be sure of it."

"Alright, fine then, tomorrow it is." Crowley said with a few final taps on the wall, "Tomorrow it is."


	11. Lasting Company

The next day had arrived a bit more quickly than Aziraphale expected or hoped, begrudgingly pulling himself away from his writing to head into town. It hadn't taken much effort to find collect a variety of wines, not bothering to do much research on the different types other than the suggestions of a merchandising associate in the alcohol section of the shop, who was thankfully more than willing to provide answers to his many questions.

'Pinot Noir', 'Merlot', 'Chardonnay'...all the suggestions blended together in his mind with each drink he inspected. Everything looked equally daunting to the angel, and he ended up coming back to the bookstore with six different bottles in a bag that he allowed to stretch beyond its natural limits. He was never going to buy alcohol again, so he supposed it might be nice to stock up in case it was ever necessary to give Crowley something to quiet his tongue for a while.

It was now midway through the afternoon, a bit late as the amount of choices in wine had kept him for much longer than was comfortable.  
It was almost August at this point, he assumed, and the sun beamed down with a harsh glare at all those who walked along the dry Earth below. His skin felt especially uncomfortable in his usual coat, but he kept his thoughts firmly on the studies he had waiting for him after all this was over. If he played his cards right, he'd have an evening of complete peace. He just had to keep the demon busy, let him have his fill, and before long there'd be nothing to disturb him from his writing.

As he walked back into his store, he spotted Crowley perched on top of a bookshelf, snoring slightly. He was dangerously close to an edge, an arm dangling off the side, but Aziraphale already knew he'd most likely dug his claws into the wood securely enough; there wasn't much use at this point in trying to ask the beast nicely to have mercy on all the furniture.

He attempted to quietly move to his study, but the rustle of the bag in his hold gave away his presence, wincing as the demon began to stir and he heard the sound of wood crunching horribly under his nails. Crowley hopped down from the shelf with a light swoop of his wings, following the angel and eyeing the bag with interest.

"Really, must you sleep in such peculiar places, Crowley?" Aziraphale started, setting the bag down with a soft huff, "It's getting hard to keep track of all the damage you're causing in my store with those claws of yours."

"S'not like anybody's going to see it up there, out of sight, out of mind and all- now what'd you get?" he groaned with a stretch, pushing messy hair out of his eyes as he rubbed his face.

"I hardly know. I was told this has a taste akin to... aged oak? That this had the slightest hint of apple-plum, that this effervescing thing somehow will inspire my senses...what am I supposed to make of that?" he muttered, pushing the bag away from his armchair with his foot and sitting down with a thud. The demon eagerly reached into the sack and looked through it, picking bottles up and sitting them down in a line to inspect. 

"I wouldn't worry about it. If its got alcohol, that's what matters. I never pay attention to what I'm drinking, just that it'll get me drunk if I drink enough of it."

"You see? That's exactly what I thought you'd say. Oh, this was a terrible idea-"

"How so? If you don't like the feeling then just make it go away. You'll be back to normal the moment you decide to be."

"Even so, I'm afraid it'll make me act careless, say rude things and lose so much time I could've spent on work, all before I can even think of sobering myself."

"I told you that you needed a break. Hey-stop! Close that book, what did I just say?" he said, swatting the angel's hand as he reached for one of his notebooks once more.

"Please, dear? Just a bit more, then I'll rest. I need to do at least some before the day's completely lost."

"No, no. Now come on, we'll start slow." he said, battling with the cap of one of the bottles, which quickly gave way as Aziraphale flicked a thumb to make it so. "You'd have to go through the entire thing before you even get tipsy, angel. Wish you'd at least bought something stronger..." he said with a bit of disappointment, soon overshadowed as the angel picked out two glasses from a cupboard for pouring. "Alright, now just sit back and enjoy the rest of today, alright?" 

"I...suppose." was all he could manage.

* * *

"MMn-I really don't know why I was such an idiot." Aziraphale mumbled, now on his fourth glass of wine in the past hour, "Making everything ssso dull and...wait-Crowley? Where'd you go?" 

"Here, and v' been since the last time you asked, angle." the demon replied, sitting opposite from him on the couch, arms curled around a pile of Aziraphale's notebooks he was lazily flipping through. Though a few of the words were difficult to see in the fog that'd fallen over his thoughts, he could make out something about...sigils? Boring stuff, aside from the occasional little pictures that accompanied the writing, he thought. This could be interesting information, if only he could think right now.

"Ah, good, I was affraid you'd already gn home for the n-ight." 

"Wouldn't dream of it. Mmm' having too much fun trying to read your ssshhitty handwriting." Crowley felt a bit lightheaded, but realized he was nowhere near as far gone as the angel, who tilted his head from side to side and squinted in an effort to focus. 

"Bllease stay at my store a little while longer? I never get cust-custo-customers." The angel cleared his throat, swatting the air with his hand to shoo away an imaginary fly.

"Just a bit, I've got a job you know. Cn't keep my boss waiting, now can I?" The demon was only joking at the time, though the hint of an idea suddenly came to mind; it flickered through and then was lost. 

"Don't go, I'll be so dreaddfully boorrred in here, mm-y dear. It'sso quiet all the t...time, mnd I never talk to-" he cut himself off with another gulp of wine, pulling a face and tilting the glass to let it pour out onto the floor in a slow trickle. "Ah, this is too old now. Pour me anothner, would you?" Crowley grinned, grabbing the glass and hovered an unopened bottle of white wine over it, forgetting to unscrew the cap. 

"Oh fck, this bottle's broken. Doesn't work right." he growled, the realization hitting him about five minutes after. Aziraphale eagerly reached for the cup anyway, seemingly unaware that it was empty to begin with.

"Thnk you darling, you're so kind. You deserve to be accoladed." he sputtered, taking a hypothetical drink that evidently pleased him regardless. "Aah, that's lvvv...lovley."

"You shdn't call me that, mst' break some sort of un-spoken rule of some sort in some stupid writing in some book...smwhere."

"I don't caaare, it's just the truth. Isn't it good-mf- to tell the truth?" he began to chuckle, and Crowley continued to battle with the wine bottle while muttering to himself. 

"Waht's ssso funny, amngel? Don't mk fun of me!" 

"You weren't even supposed t-", he covered his face with a hand and laughed deep and hard, letting his glass fall from his grasp and topple onto the carpet. There was a sharp thud when it fell, and he was thankful the carpet prevented it from smashing completely. The angel was certainly in no mind to clean a mess.

"I wassn't supposed to _what?"_ he said in mock frustration, about to join the angel in his laughter. Aziraphale's usual wisps of cloud-like hair were swept backwards, one hand lazily clutching onto it while the other kept toying with his suspenders-come to think of it, tonight was the first time he'd seen the angel without his usual and very dated coat. He finally looked as if he was allowing himself to be comfortable. 

"Here! You weren't supposed to _be_ here. I made it so easy-mn-you know." Crowley stilled, frowning at the bottle one last time and kicking it away. It rolled to the opposite end of the room and clanged as it bounced against an air vent. 

"What thh Heaven are you saying?" he squinted over at the angel and hazily rubbed his eyes, a yawn at the back of his throat; he wouldn't dare sleep tonight, though. This was more fun than he'd had in hundreds of years.

"For you to go!" he cackled, holding his sides and letting his head fall back into the cushions. His face was tinged with a light pink, mirth covering all his features.

"Wait...what?" he asked, the haze of drunkenness beginning to dissipate as adrenaline shot through him. The angel grabbed the back of the couch to pull himself upright, wobbly arm pointing to the door that led to the exit of the store. He looked so careless, so proud of himself. 

"There!" he managed, flopping heavily back down and turning over onto his side. "Oh, it mustt be late. Why don't you...mhh-stay for the night? It gets scold nd quiet here by myself." 

"...No, v' got to get back home." he said, standing on unsteady legs to walk over to the door, smiling a bit as he realized the angel must be too drunk to think properly about much of anything. He must be playing a little game, one that made sense to him in his current state; why not play along with whatever story the angel had going in his head right now? He'd pretend to leave for the night, though of course he'd simply hide somewhere in the store for a while, only to sneak up on him again. Oh, the possibilities of pranks he could pull after that, before the angel sobered up completely, where practically endless.

Dim lights flickered as he went by, giggles mixing with small sobs as Aziraphale kept babbling on about how late it was and how dangerous it'd be to go home at this time of night; that he could be robbed blind-perhaps murdered! Crowley muffled a snicker with his palm, crossing the foyer and facing the door. The angel might possess other-worldly strength, but he was certainly a lightweight.

He reached his hand out for a moment, right above the doorknob and looked back. "Thank you for hosting tonight, Aziraphale. I'll come again soon." he said, wrapping his hand around the handle and waited for the futile realization of invisible locks that couldn't turned by his hand, or even a holy barrier that would burn into his skin.

It opened as easily as the door to his own flat, creaking open with a low drone that lingered in his ears.

Moonlight pooled into the store, and he jumped back quickly, certain it'd be the searing light of angels guarding the entrance. He stared down at the trail that crossed to his feet, carefully looking left and right as he walked over to the doorway in a slow stride. 

"...Angel?" he whispered, looking back to see if the angel would notice his mistake and come to throw him back in a cage, lock him up for good.

No, this was too easy; how long had it been open? Was this a trap?

"Aziraphale?" he said a bit louder, waiting for a reaction, but there was no response except soft puffs of breathing. The demon hesitantly padded back through the store, pausing every few steps to look back into the study and see if the angel was awake. 

He walked back over, door sitting open, to the study where he looked down at the angel's sleeping face. Only half of it was visible, the other buried deeply in a pillow. He looked so completely at ease, not a hint of tension that could give away any intention he might've had.

He crept quietly back to the exit, cautiously grabbing the sides of the door frame, bracing himself as he stuck his face out into the night air.

No swords, no burning, no shouts and screams or tearing skin. Only the gentle warmth of the summer under a blanket of dark.   
His breath quickened as he lightly jumped both feet outside, looking around in a daze. Everything was much like it had been before he got caught; the buildings had hardly changed, just the seasons, and perhaps there were more flowers coming through cracks in the sidewalk than he remembered. Everything seemed somehow brighter, despite the absence of light. The world had waited for him.

How was this possible? What kind of error had the angel made to forget to lock the fucking store? More than that, what was he going to do _now?_

He thought back to when he'd first been brought into this shop; what had he imagined would happen? What did he plan to do? It was mostly a blur of blood and searing pain. He'd been so sure he wouldn't live for very long, be reduced to nothing by endless holy power.

Aziraphale had been an anomaly; he didn't know what to make of him. He thought at first, when the angel began to stitch up raw wounds, that surely the feeling of skin tightening as it was sewn back together was some kind of cruel miracle to render him immobile, that'd he'd lose any ability to move and be kept only to study. It's what any sane angel would do. It'd be easier. Less hassle. He couldn't do anything about it though, too weak from blood loss and too desperate when he realized he was as powerless as a mortal. 

Freedom hadn't seemed like a legitimate option till tonight. How could he explain this to Hell? How would he simply go back to living as he had, doing whatever pointless shit he could to keep his litigious higher-ups off his back, or...

Say he did, say he just forgot about the time spent here...then what? What would happen to the angel?  
He remembered how the archangels cut into him, destroying his will to fight till hardly anything remained. If they knew Aziraphale had fucked up this much, after being tempted into a drunken stupor by a demon no less... how much more torture would they put him through?  
Would it cause him to fall? He thought of the angel being thrown away like a forgotten child's toy, tumbling into that same river of scorching sulfur he'd crawled out of. His untainted wings melting till they turned to bony spikes, if anything. His soft face, so full of mercy, contorted into despair and unbearable suffering. He'd never be the same again.

Without pausing to keep the image in his mind a moment longer, he stepped back inside and pulled the door closed quietly, standing beside it as his mind raced. The thoughts left a metallic, burning taste in his mouth, a quick thud in his chest.

It didn't matter if he had to stay here forever, he wouldn't be able to live with himself if such a fate came to the angel. 

He slowly padded back to the couch where Aziraphale was now soundly sleeping, coming back to where he was previously sitting. For once the angel looked completely carefree, jaw slackened and the usual lines on his forehead smoothed out. He stirred as the fabric of the couch rustled under the demon's weight. His eyes fluttered, peering up drowsily. The pale blue of his eyes were slanted into little crescents, highlighted by the soft glow his vision cast down on them. 

"Hmf...back sho soon?" Crowley chuckled a bit; the motion felt hollow but warm in his chest. 

"Yeah, spose' it is a bit too late to go home after all. Mind if I stay the night?"

"Of course you can! Come here." he mumbled, hoisting himself upright and stretching out an arm towards Crowley without bothering to open his eyes. The demon hesitated a moment, but soon followed the invitation, and soon was ungracefully grabbed at the neck and pulled against Aziraphale's shoulder. "I've nevber been a...host before."

"Well, I've never been anybody's guest." His anxieties began to dissipate as he sank into the warmth of the hold, closer than he ever had been to the bookish, musky scent of the angel, mingling with whatever old-fashioned cologne he used from time to time. He was careful to stay still, smiling as he felt Aziraphale's head droop back down.

"Not...till now, anyway. Goodnight, angel."


	12. Waiting Out the Tempest

Aziraphale groaned as pain shot through his head, which was slowly pulled up from its position encased in couch cushions. He reached up to rub his temples, squinting his eyes open, which took a few attempts as the light that flooded into his vision seemed blinding. 

He willed himself to move upright, the movement of circulation making him feel sick as he struggled to focus.

_So this was a hangover_

He noticed a weight on his lap, and looked down to see Crowley's head resting there, evidently still asleep. His face was buried in his vest, and there was a tickle of breath against him. He carefully brought a stiff arm over to run a hand through the creature's hair, even messier than it usually was. 

The store was quiet, the sounds of birds beginning to wake up the outside world spilling in through slits in the window boards, which beamed gently with early-morning light. His skin felt moist from both the warmth of the Summer and the closeness of the other being against him, and he had to struggle to keep himself from drifting back to sleep soon enough. 

He stayed unmoving for some time, enjoying the rise and fall of breath from Crowley's scaly back, not bothering to wake him up despite desperately wanting to get back to work; oh, he'd missed so much already!

He did suppose it did feel nice to relax for a time, lose concentration and just-wait, what did he even _do_ the night before? None of it was coming to memory...oh, he must've made an absolute fool of himself. He thought it best to never pick up any sort of alcoholic drink again, and his resolution was heightened as another pang ran through his head.

It was all a blur; he'd heard drunkenness could cause memory loss, but he'd never experienced this first hand. There was something unnerving about falling prey to something so...normal. Something a creature like himself should never have subjected himself to. 

He remembered talking first about Crowley's experiences before the 15th century, and what sort of careers he'd taken up to both pass the time and avoid suspicion. 

Then, something about ducks and-oh, what then?  
He hoped demons didn't have a better memory than angels. The beast would never let him forget if he really had made an embarrassment of himself; he couldn't expect anything else.

The spiral of thinking was cut short when Crowley shifted under his hand, blinking his eyes open.

"...Does the sun always have to be _that_ bright?" he grumbled, shoving his face further into Aziraphale's stomach.

"I'm glad to see you're so lively, beast." the angel tutted, pausing an unintentional grooming as he untangled his fingers from tussled hair and waved a hand to create a few rain clouds up above. The demon gave a satisfied sigh as the light in the room dimmed. "You should've told me the effects the next morning would be so..."

"Shit? S'right, this is your first hangover, isn't it?"

"And it's _going_ to be my _last."_ he said, already miracling away the effects for the both of them.

"You can keep telling yourself that; in any case, you're supposed to sober yourself up before it starts, angel."

"I know. I shouldn't have let myself go so far, get so caught up with this. At the very least I should've exercised some...restraint."

"Nh, don't worry about it. Since you've never had any alcohol before, I wouldn't expect you to know your limits." he groaned, rubbing at his eyes.

"Still, I must've acted like quite an idiot last night." 

"I hardly remember." he snickered, pulling himself upright and stretching out his arms. "You have to admit it felt good for a while at least. You didn't have to think about much about anything, your head got all buzzed up and for once you weren't talking about _business."_

"Well...yes, it was nice to relax for an evening, but I certainly won't be making it any sort of habit." The angel looked down at the mess of glasses and half-empty bottles strewn about the floor, as well as half-dried puddles of wine sunken into the carpet, which he quickly miracled clean again. "I made such a mess of this place! There's probably more I haven't even seen yet...I have to check over everything, make sure nothing's been damaged from my carelessness."

"Suit yourself. I had a great time." Crowley said with a grin, unfurling his wings, which had long-since lost circulation due to their cramped position against the couch. "How long were we passed out, anyway?"

"Most likely...five hours or so? I woke up just when the sun was beginning to come up; much longer than I'd like."

"Ughh, not _nearly_ long enough then." he grumbled, trudging back to his makeshift room and curling up in his bed. "I'd stay on the couch where it's still warm, but I know you're going to start working and-ah! See? You're already at it!" he said, pointing to the angel, who was picking up his most recent research notebook.

"You sleep all that you wish to, demon, but I'm going to seize this day before it's gone!" he said with a sunny grin, a few of the clouds outside parting without any conscious attempt of his own. 

"Don't you start with that, angel. You can be as productive as you want but I'm going to 'seize this day' with all the sleep I can. Wake me when it's been another...seven hours, or so. Maybe a bit more, if it's too hot when I wake up. You know what? Maybe i should just sleep till the summer's over..."

"Oh please, my dear, there's so much more you could do with your time than waste it on that!"

"Such as?"

"Well-"

"Name five things I haven't done in the past three weeks."

"You could learn a new skill, or perhaps-"

"Yeah, s'what I thought. Look, angel, not everybody can be as thrilled with books as you." Aziraphale bristled, setting the book down with a glare.

"What exactly would you prefer then?"

"Going for a ride, having a picnic, seeing a show, anything that isn't reading another word on a page over and over and over till my eye sockets bleed." 

"I know this store is a little old-fashioned, but what can I do?" The angel sat down in a chair to face the demon, giving up hope on focusing for the time being. "You said you'd behave after last night..." he mumbled. 

"...How about you open this place up to the public? You know, like an actual store." He said after a light pause. The angel shot his gaze up from his notebook, looking with alarm at the beast, mouth slackening.

"What?! What about my books? They're precious, I could never part with any of them."

"Who said you have to? Do you know how many shops I've been to where the owners gave me a run-around? It's all about having an excuse as to why nothing's available. Jack up prices, you'll make people positively furious in no time. Nobody would want to buy from you then."

"Wh-there's no way I could actually open this place-and what in Heaven's name would be the point if not to sell anything?"

"You'll finally get to talk to people when you feel like it, and you could un-board all the doors and windows and-"

"-And leave it wide open for you to run away. Aren't you a crafty thing?" he said, narrowing his eyes and crossing his arms with a huff.

"No, no. See, you could put up some sort of barrier. It'd be easy, keep the demon in and the humans-or angels-come and go as they wish. You know how to create such things, don't you?" Aziraphale stared downwards, pursing his lips.

"You have a point, but where would I even begin? I know nothing about owning any sort of store! I've had many occupations in my existence, but never something like that."

"I'm sure you can find everything you need to know in those books of yours- besides, if you're not actually going to be selling anything, then there's no point in worrying about it. Price everything unreasonably high, fuck with people enough till they give up."

"...What exactly would you gain from all this, beast?"

"The satisfaction of being an accomplice to your _endless inconveniencing_ of clueless customers. Think about it, it's terrific! I'd technically be doing my job, and you wouldn't really be doing anything wrong, not technically; you're incapable of it, aren't you? Maybe you can preach to...sinners who walk in here or something like that. Either way, it'd be so much better than sitting around all day like this."

"I'll-I'll have to give it some thought." The demon smirked, already feeling himself begin to nod off as he turned to face a wall. "Thank you for the suggestion, it does sound quite nice now that I...oh, I just don't know..."

"Take your time, there's no rush. None at all."

* * *

Wind howled outside, rain gushing down in sheets. Evidently Aziraphale's attempt to bring a bit of shade over the town had escalated quite a bit since the morning. He thought better than to interfere with the weather anymore, hoping it wouldn't draw suspicion to his shop.

It was nearly 12am, judging by the grandfather clock that ticked in a trance-inducing pattern.

He'd spent a good portion of his day at a nearby library, reading what he could about starting a business without actually bringing any books home. If he attempted to get a library card, he'd most likely need to give information on his street address, as well as his full name; he tried to avoid lying when he could. He'd gone through twenty so far, thankful for his ability to process the words as fast as he could.

When he came home that afternoon, he found Crowley still trying to sleep away his evident boredom, and decided to let himself rest for a while as well since the sounds of the storm distracted him too much to focus on much else. He ended up getting lost in a few of his favorite stories, and was currently going through _Oliver Twist_ once again, sitting comfortably in his study. 

Rain beat against windows, wind creaking the walls till they threatened to snap. A bolt of lightning shot through the sky, and almost made him drop his cup of tea as he brought it up to his mouth. For a moment, bright light filled up the dim study, the sound of rain filling up the room, shortly followed by a deafening crackle of thunder. 

Another pounding of wind, another whip of rain, and then all the lights flickered out.

Aziraphale grumbled in frustration, considering miracling the electricity back on straight away, but decided now would be a nice time to use up some candles he'd been neglecting for years. 

He slowly got to his feet and crossed the room to the little wooden cabinet he stored them in, taking a moment to choose between two different shades of green.   
He picked out a few for his study, and some to leave in the foyer in case Crowley decided to do some reading himself, fondly lifting each up to his nose to smell them. They were quite dusty, a musk of stale air clinging to them, but beyond the casing there was their ever-present scent of nostalgia; each one brought him back to the moment he'd chosen them.

Every one had been carefully picked out over the years, and each reminded him of the magnificent light he'd seen when he first looked up the sun and witnessed its beauty- though they were substantially smaller and less powerful, of course. He'd always been amazed that such small things could light up so much around them.

He went meticulously through the store, finding just the right places for each, and with a snap they were all lit up. The glow of fire was peaceful, and he stopped to admire the lazy flicker all around him.

Another bolt of lightning spilled streaks of light into the store, and another wave of sound followed soon after, this time almost worryingly close. He hoped the nearby buildings wouldn't be beaten too hard...

He felt a chill run down his spine as a hand pressed against the back of his shoulder, and he whipped around to see a form silhouetted in the black by dim, moving lights.

"Oh-" he began, relaxing as he remembered the demon. "Crowley, you startled me, my dear!" he began to chuckle, though his voice trailed off as he watched the beast back up against a wall, breath coming in short pants. "Are you alright?"

"M'fine, s'just a bit of-" he started, cut off by another echoing roll of thunder, and pressed himself closer to the wall, "Fuck!"

"Are you afraid of storms?" He inched closer, hovering a hand out in silent worry.

"I'm not! It's jus _t really fucking loud_ this time. Caught me off guard." he wobbled to his feet and nearly sprinted back to his bed, burrowing under his wings. "You really think this is enough to scare me? A little bit of rain and thunder? I'm a _demon."_

"Alright then." the angel said with a shrug, setting down the last candle near the demon's bed. "I hope this light doesn't keep you awake. I can take it back out if you want- I'm sure you can see just fine in the dark."

"No, it's fine. I'd prefer not to strain my eyes if I don't have to." The angel nodded, beginning to leave. "Wait, where are you going?"

"Back to finish my novel. Maybe a few others if I have the energy...it's a bit hard to concentrate with this storm, but I suppose it adds a nice ambiance."

"I'd hardly call it _that."_ Aziraphale shook his head and continued to walk out of the doorway. "Ah-you don't have to go so soon. We could talk for a while; you could even bring your book in here and read, or-" Another blast of sound rang through the store, and he coiled his arms and legs under his little shelter. _"Please."_

"Alright then." he said with a soft smile, reminded of the children he used to console during the especially turbulent nights on the Ark. He went to pick up his book, coming back to sit down on the opposite end of the bed, flipping the pages of the book to find where he'd left off. "You know, some of the bravest souls have a dreadful fear of things like thunderstorms. I mean, I've seen lightning set fire to houses and trees; it's not as though they're completely harmless. It's nothing to be ashamed of."

"Sss'not that." he whimpered, words nearly lost in the pillows. He was breathing hard, nearly gasping, and Aziraphale remembered with a sting the first few weeks of his company.

"Crowley, are you okay?" he asked, shifting a bit closer to rub a hand over the now quivering feathers. 

"Shit, I'm sorry." he stuttered, a few sobs coming out. "S'not usually this bad."

"What's wrong?" Aziraphale said as he lifted up a wing to see the demon, oddly pale, clutching the blankets tightly. "Crowley?" 

Another crackle of thunder boomed into the room, light coating the floors, and the creature let out a loud hiss, scrambling off the bed and back into that same corner he'd cowered in during the worst of his beatings from the archangels.

He sat there, nearly motionless, his eyes staring out of trembling wings like two glowing embers. Aziraphale heard the screech of wood cracking into splinters from fingernails scraping against the floor, the heaves of strangled breathing mixed into low growls.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to frighten you." The beast didn't reply, staring forward. "I shouldn't have touched you just then-would you like me to leave?"

"No! Don't go." the beast snarled out, reaching out a hand to stop the angel as he got to his feet. Aziraphale stilled, realizing how much every bolt of lightning resembled the piercing light of Heaven.

"Oh _Crowley,"_ he began, kneeling down to the floor as the demon tried to regain himself, "This storm...it reminds you of... _before,_ doesn't it?" The beast nodded, a quick, stiff motion that almost looked painful as he continued to grip into the floor, into the walls; anything that would crumble beneath his hold.

"I know it's only electricity, only nature. I know they're not-here, but it feels like it. The light, the heat, the damned _sounds_...m'sorry." 

"I see, I-Crowley! Your hands, they're all cut up now." he exclaimed, pointing down to the demon's palms, which were badly splintered and steadily dripping out blood in the areas lacking scales to protect the skin. "Here, let me help." The angel reached out his hands in expectation, and the demon slowly extended his in return.

"Sss'nothing serious; you should save your powers for things that matter."

"This _does_ matter, my dear. Now-", before Aziraphale could begin, thunder rang through the store once more and the demon jerked back again, hands flying over his arms and nails digging into his skin. His breathing increased till it sounded he was drowning, voice frantic as he muttered words under his breath. The angel felt dizzy, the feeling of fear so cold and close, causing his own heartbeat to rise and pound as well.

Aziraphale backed up a few feet till there was a bit of space between the two of them and allowed his own wings into existence once more. They spread up and out, rising till they hovered over the two of them in an illuminant shield. Crowley's shivers grew still for a moment, staring up as the gleaming spectacles blocked out the light of the candles as well as the darkness of the room around. 

The angel took the moment of confusion to lift up the beast's hands and heal them, humming to himself and paying little mind to the claws that instinctively dug into his grasp.  
"It's okay, it's okay. I'm here." he breathed, massaging the beast's calloused knuckles.

He smiled, feeling the fear begin to soften, the stiffness in the demon's hands replaced by a harsh shudder. The strangled pants slowed, turning to long heaves that stuttered behind tears that were finally allowed to fall freely.

"You see? You're going to be alright. Nobody's going to harm you." he said quietly, letting his head slightly fall to the side, a small euphoria coming over him as his wings relaxed into their temporary freedom. He hadn't felt comfortable letting them out during his time on Earth for a very long time, always careful to keep them safely hidden. He felt an urge to spread them out to their full length, give the neglected things good use-but put the feeling away. There would be time, some other day. 

He could hear the faint sound of teeth chattering together, and Crowley tried to speak, but only managed a few words that became jumbled in his tightened throat. "It's okay, I'm here. Everything will be alright. Just breathe. Just breathe."


	13. Beating Around the Bush

A few months passed before Aziraphale decided he was ready to open his store to the public-or so he'd told Crowley, if only to get him to stop talking about it. He'd somehow agreed to opening sometime in the month of September, which was almost over, and had been putting off the alleged "opening day" for over a week now.

He could get very creative when he wanted, the store suddenly unkempt, and would spend the rest of the day polishing all that already sparkled. Other times, it was "too windy" outside, or "too cold", or perhaps he should really just wait till the Spring and give the place a fresh, new start. He could decorate with flowers, bring a few potted plants in and place them here and there; it was looking awfully drab, after all. 

Little excuses like this continued till he wondered if it was such a good idea in the first place, and perhaps it'd be better to distract himself with work and pretend the idea had never settled into a concrete plan. Indeed, it never had been a promise. Nothing more than a thought, a wish that might never come into fruition.

Aziraphale sat idly in his study, trying to find another reason why today wouldn't be the day. Well, it was damp from yesterday's rain, and the clouds were looking awfully dark. It could storm! To open on such a nasty day would simply be impolite. There was construction work going on nearby, and the noises would surely distract customers...

Unfortunately, Crowley was more than eager to jog his memory, and had been asking questions nonstop about his plans for opening. 

Right now the demon was fiddling with an old gramophone, trying to start it up once more. He seemed much more interested in it than the angel was, who merely had kept it as a decoration-he'd never actually tried to use it before, despite a small collection of records he kept in a basket nearby. Regardless of Aziraphale's offers to fix it with a miracle or two, Crowley was set on figuring out the mechanisms himself. The angel was glad for the distraction, hoping he could avoid any more of the demon's questioning today as he listened to him curse under his breath. Anything to give him the quiet to think about what to do next.

It was just past noon, somber clouds hovering in the sky. It was particularly warm out, despite the time of year, and the air had a stagnant, drying quality to it. Despite the fact that water was inessential for him, he felt parched. The skin of his hands was tight, lips nearly chapping. 

He was brought back to his thoughts as Crowley spat out a jumble of profanities, the contraption in his hands making a sound that certainly wasn't musical in any sense of the word.

"Stupid thing...I've been doing everything right, why in the name of Satan isn't it working?!" he hissed, jolting as he got a finger stuck inside one of the hollowed out parts. A creaking noise echoed in the shop, along with more whispered obscenities that bounced off the angel's ears.

"Perhaps because you've taken it apart completely and most likely put it back together all wrong." Aziraphale said softly, bringing a cup of tea up in to his mouth to sip, only partially concentrating on the book in his lap. "You know, dear, it'd be much easier if you'd just let me-"

"No, I've almost got it. I would've fixed it a long time ago if it wasn't for these blasted claws. I can hardly hold onto anythin-shit!" he growled, jerking his hand away from the device. He clenched a fist against his chest, holding it protectively. 

"Can't you tend to that in another room for a bit? I could really use some quiet, you know." he sighed hopelessly, adjusting his reading unnecessary reading glasses once more. 

"You've been saying that all week, but you're hardly doing anything. You haven't turned a single page in the past ten minutes." he pointed out, finally looking up from his work to glare at him. "I'm most likely making more progress right now than you. Why don't you just give up on that for the time being?"

"That isn't-alright, so I'm a bit distracted. I've a lot on my mind." he said truthfully, pushing fingers into his temples and rubbing in circular motions. There were many thoughts about past, present and the ever-approaching future, and he couldn't seem to sort any of them into any kind of logical system. 

"Like excuses."

"Crowley!" he huffed, setting down his tea cup a bit louder than he meant to on his desk, a small splatter of Earl Grey ending up in a streak beside it. "There's no need for that."

"What? Y'keep telling me 'today's the day', and then chickening out. Why can't you just throw all your worry away and do it, once and for all? The moment it becomes too tiring, you can just close this place up again, make like it never existed to begin with."

"I can't go back into hiding. News will travel, people will come to inspect it, and I'll have so many memories to erase and alter so I don't fall into some sort of legal battle...there wouldn't be any going back."

"Well, the sooner you do it, the sooner it all settles into place."

"I'm not quite keen on letting in all the trouble that might come inside." he groaned, staring down at his cup with a grimace, the little trail of steam fogging up his glasses. "Wouldn't that just be tickety-boo."

"I'm a demon, how much more trouble can you even find?" Crowley sneered, the machine in his hands being ungracefully pushed to the side. He turned around backwards, lifting his legs over the top of the couch and resting his hands on his stomach. His hair dangled off the edge of the sofa and pooled on the floor.

"Then surely you've witnessed the worst humanity is capable of." he muttered, pausing his work to rub his face.

"I've spent so much time in here away from it all, and realized how much happier I am to be rid of it." 

"Sure, I know. I've hidden away for centuries at a time before, but that doesn't mean I don't still enjoy a thing or two. _Ack_ , I hate to sound like...well, you, but 'you can't let the bad outweigh the good', or however it's said. I mean, it won't be that much longer before you won't be able to-I assume they've told you?" his voice darkened on the last few words, both of them pausing to let the notion hang in the air like a knife suspended above their heads.

"Yes-oh dear, don't make me think about that right now. I've been trying my best to keep my spirits high regardless of...the circumstances." he shivered, heating up the cup in his hands to give him something warm to hold onto.

"I can see that." he half-joked, watching him closely as he spoke.

"I'll have you know I've been trying my best, but the preparation is of the utmost importance before any sort of dramatic shift, like opening a business."

"Alright, alright. Why don't you open some windows then? Let in some actual sunlight? Maybe then it won't feel like a freezer in here."

"I can't do that-people will see in!"

"That's kind of the point, angel. You sooner you make yourself known, the sooner people will categorize your shop as a blatant scam and keep their distance. Then, you'll be free to leave when you want." 

"That's not the sort of image I was hoping for."

"Well it works!" he chuckled, beginning to toy with the project once more, withdrawing his hand with a hiss as a small prick of blood oozed out of a finger when it caught on an internal spike. The angel miracled it away unconsciously.

"Ah yes, the untrustworthy old man who hides away in his store when he isn't misleading others. I'm sure that'll give me a reason to explore the world outside."

"Oh come on, nobody really gives that much of a shit. At worst they'll talk about you behind your back-or right in front of you, if they're especially bold-but trust me, you wouldn't be in the minority. There's lots of bastard store owners, and-"

"What of you? What about your room? What about your wings and all those feathers you leave around the store?"

"I-well I guess I could-"

"If one person sees you, a demon, what happens then? You could stay hidden, spend your days locked up in your room, but then that defeats the purpose of opening up the shop, now doesn't it?"

"...Alright, you have a point. Nhk, I hadn't thought of that. I guess I could pretend I'm some sort of performer? You know, an artist who-stays inside a bookstore 24/7..."

"What kind of store would house a _performer?_ Not to mention, you don't exactly have any sort of show you could put on. Anything that wouldn't be too dangerous, should I say." he mumbled, already imagining the kind of danger such a notion might imply.

"Well I could-I could...oh _fuck."_

"Yes, so when you pause to think about our little situation for a moment, it becomes clear that opening this store isn't really an option right now." he said hollowly, giving the cup between his palms a finally sip before it vanished from his hold and reappeared back in its usual cupboard, good as new. 

"Fine, you win. I'm sure we'll find a way soon enough, though. You're clever, you'll figure something out."

"I wish I had that confidence." he sighed, covering his face with a hand. "I understand your enthusiasm, being locked up for so long, but this world has so, so many limitations."

"You don't have to tell _me_ that."

"Oh I didn't mean-"

"No, not like that. I mean just, it seems like no matter who you are and what you do, everybody's locked up in their own...cages. S'not like I was free to do things as I wanted before, not really. You're always held down by something or other." he said softly, toying with his hair. " _Ack!_ Let's talk about something cheerier, shall we? Hm, what else would you like to experience while this Earth is still moving?" 

"Ah, where would I begin? I've only just opened myself up to the idea of trying new things without worry." he tried to smile, adjusting his collar with a fingertip. "Perhaps there is a world out there, waiting with wonders and beauty, but how would I ever begin to appreciate any more of it?"

"Well it's easy enough to walk around out there and explore for yourself, see what catches your fancy."

"I'd prefer to at least have some idea of where I'm going."

"What about-"

"...Wait!" he said suddenly, eyes lighting up brightly under the spectacles. "I have just the idea! I'm...going to be out for a while, alright? I'll be back tonight." he said, standing up to grab his coat. "Probably a bit later than I normally would."

"Where? Angel, you're literally _glowing,_ what's gotten into you?" he breathed, staring up at Aziraphale in confusion. 

"Oh, nothing for you to worry about. I'll be back before you know it."

"Wha-being all secretive all of a sudden, angel? Ah, I didn't take you for the type." he said coyly, shooting Aziraphale a suggestive grin.

"I...I don't honestly know what you had in mind just then, but I assume it's not that. In any case enjoy your day, alright?"

"Sure, sure. Watch out for-" Crowley started, but the angel was gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Midterms are finally over, and though my brain is a melted pile of mush I'm excited to have time to do some writing! :D


	14. Night of Illusions

Nearly a month had gone by in which Aziraphale left the bookstore by the afternoon and didn't wouldn't return till late into the night. Crowley was beginning to make his own assumptions, but held off from saying anything to the angel about the matter for the time being. What good would that do? He was quite enjoying his little game of being all secretive.

So, maybe Aziraphale had discovered a bit of fun. There wasn't anything wrong with that! It'd do him good, get him out of the musty old place every day. Despite this, Crowley tried to savor the time he could spend with the angel before he went gallivanting off to whatever pastime had captured so much of his attention. 

Much of the demon's time was spent in silence now-aside from the classical music playing on the gramophone he'd eventually managed to piece together somehow( which only made a few screeching noises at this point; nothing he couldn't live with), and the store felt awfully desolate. 

He tried not to think about what that damned angel might be doing that was so _very_ important. Maybe he'd been called on actual fucking business for once, that Heaven had finally stopped ignoring him. Maybe he'd started a side job to ease some of the boredom, or-no, that was the worst idea he'd come up with so far. That he'd _found_ someone. Someone that was worth spending half of his days with, having all sorts of Earthly experiences with...

There was a nagging need to speculate about it, despite the fact that it was most decidedly none of his business what Aziraphale decided to do with his free time. Which, to be fair, was almost always. Still, it became harder and harder to ignore as the days went on.

The angel would always come back looking tired, but absolutely glowing with cheer-well, more so than what was normal for a celestial being, anyway. Crowley considered sleeping till all this secrecy was over with and Aziraphale came back to his senses, but couldn't risk oversleeping and missing when the bastard came back-he might actually die of boredom if he didn't have the company whenever there was a chance. 

He'd been lying sideways on the angel's armchair, slowly flipping through one of the thousands of books available, searching for something with a hint of interest. He'd of course looked around the store for one of those prized notebooks, storing whatever sorts of boring information the angel had decided to scribble about him in, but they seemed to have been locked away in some invisible hiding place.

He was struggling to keep his eyes open, lids gradually fluttering closed despite his attempts. Another Winter droned on, wrapping the store in a deep chill that sapped every living creature of energy. 

Aziraphale burst into the store with a unmistakably merry grin, rambling about something the demon couldn't begin to wrap his head around in his current state. He didn't bother sitting up, almost wishing the angel would come and drag him away from his burrow of blankets and books himself. It'd been such a long time since he'd simply felt the warmth of his hands. 

"Ah-sorry, I'm going a bit fast, aren't I? Let me slow down...oh, you can't wear _that_ , dear. I mean, you can, but I feel like it'd be more meaningful if you dressed for the occasion as well. Of course, I could create something different, if you'd like. Just tell me what you'd prefer. There's no rush." he hummed, smiling so brightly he could've blinded the demon if he didn't look away.

"What in the name of Satan are you talking about, angel?" the demon grumbled as he hesitantly pulled himself up from his slouch, rubbing his eyes with a grimace. 

"We're going out! Well, not out, per se. We're staying in, but going out, and-"

"What? Something about out and in and...you're not making sense."

"Oh, just get dressed. You'll see in a moment." he said, placing a pile of neatly folded clothes on the demon's lap. "You don't have to, but I'd certainly appreciate it. It's not as though there's anybody to judge." 

Crowley squinted his eyes down at the heap, unsure of what to make of it at first. He sat up, unfolding the jumble with a yawn. It looked to be a well-tailored suit, the material smooth and black. He looked back up at the angel in confusion, who continued to smile brightly.

"What do you think? Could you at least try it on so I can make some adjustments, you know, just in case you ever decide to wear it for a time."

"S'nice, but could you please tell what the Heaven is going on?"

"It'll all make sense in a moment, I promise. Just tell me when you're ready." he said, turning on his heel and walking out of the study. 

* * *

Aziraphale was positively beaming by the time the demon walked into the foyer, bouncing a little as he saw the beast. Crowley had never been one to dress up, preferring not to stand out too much whenever possible. He could always feel a million little eyes on him when he did. Perhaps right now he wasn't being paranoid when he thought such a concept.

"Crowley, You look lovely! I'm so glad you decided to give the outfit a try, I really did spend some time on that." the demon turned his gaze away, waving his hand in dismissal. He felt strange, all of a sudden being all dressed up in an outfit that fit him so exactly. The angel must've spent an especially long time figuring out the measurements...that or he'd been taking some lessons on tailoring, which wouldn't surprise him either. 

"Yes, well, I can't say the same. My hair's gotten long, and I haven't exactly been keeping it neat. It's kind of ruining the effect." he grumbled, trying to unravel a clump of hairs stuck in one of the buttons of his coat.

"That won't be a problem. How would you like me to fix it?" he chirped, picking up a comb from a nearby table and walking over to the beast. "Ah, I suppose I could use a miracle, that would be much easier wouldn't it?"

"No, no. Your hands are more precise than any of that _pure_ and _holy_ magic."

"It's not 'magic', my dear." he grumbled, motioning to a chair for the demon to sit as he worked through the knots. It'd been so long since Crowley had been tended to like this, missing the softness of the angel's skin against his. He eagerly pressed his head back into the touch, listening all the while to Aziraphale go on about something to do with the creation of darkness in a room filled with light, something about...oh, whatever. It didn't matter to him. He could listen to the voice forever.

The angel had started out combing through the tangles with the tool, getting a majority of the larger knots out, but soon found it not good enough for some of the smaller clusters that refused to budge. Crowley snickered as he heard a comb tooth snap, the thing toppling down to the floor with a clang, followed by Aziraphale's little grunt of frustration.

"You know, dear, I gave you a brush a while back and it's quite within your reach. Why did you let it go this long without attention?" he said, beginning to bend down and retrieve it, but ended up setting it aside on a chair. "This won't do, it's too harsh. Can't risk damaging it anymore; just look at all this frizz it's created!"

" _Hmm_...too much work. You do a much better job at it than I can, and I was going to cut it short soon anyway. Long hair's nice and all, but way too much upkeep if you can't change it when you want."

"All the same," he said as he began to thread his fingers through the thick mane, beginning at the top of the scalp and running his hands down, "It's a shame to let all this lovely hair go so neglected. Just look at it-", he gently pulled apart a tangle, smoothing down what he could, "Once you give it a bit of care, it's as beautiful as anything in Heaven."

"I'm not quite sure if that's an insult..." he spoke, quickly leaning his head into the unexpected touch. He sighed, eyelids drooping as the angel set about unraveling his mess of hair. He'd would never get this kind of treatment in Hell, or on Earth unless money was involved, and especially not with hands as soft and well-practiced as his.

"Ah, well I certainly didn't mean it to be." he said, fingertips trailing down the beast's head, stopping at the nape that twitched as he prodded at it. "Oh dear, did you even notice how tense your muscles are? Judging from the position you kept yourself on my sofa earlier, I'd say you haven't been taking much care of...well, _any_ of yourself." he tutted, sweeping the hair to one side. 

He shrugged off his coat, tossing it to his right and rolling his sleeves up to his elbows as he began. He offered the beast a pillow to rest his head on as he began to press into the skin of his neck, massaging the tight sinew with a silent huff. " _Hmpf,_ I suppose this is what you get for sleeping on the tops of bookshelves. How can you even turn your head at this point?"

Crowley started to come up with a retort, but kept his mouth firmly shut, fearing saying anything might make the angel stop. At this point he'd nearly forgotten about whatever surprise the angel had gone on about, relaxing deeply. If this took all night, so be it. 

Thumbs and index fingers circled around the rigid muscle, then cupping the base of his neck and swooping upwards to the back of his skull in a slow, pulling motion. Crowley let his head drift farther forward, burrowing into the top of the pillow that rest in his lap, hugging the thing closer.

By the time the angel had finished, Crowley realized his hair had been worked into a long, loose braid, and Aziraphale was looking around for something to tie the end secure with. The demon turned to face the angel, who busily looked over his work and fussed over a few fly-away strands. He reached a hand towards the angel's collarbone, hooking a claw under the tartan bow tie around his neck and pulled it loose. Aziraphale stood motionless as the tie was slowly swept off in a few motions, swallowing in surprise.

Crowley took the piece of fabric and wrapped it around the tip of his braid, grimacing as the angel soon took hold of it once more and tied it in a small bow. 

"Now that part simply wasn't necessary, was it?" the demon complained, crossing his arms with a feeble attempt at annoyance.

"It looks terrific! It pulls the look together quite nicely, wouldn't you say?" he said, clapping his hands together with a long smile. He snapped his fingers, and another, identical bow appeared around his neck once more. "There, now we...sort of match, wouldn't you say?"

"I wouldn't say that _at all,_ angel." He felt partially like a child being fussed over by their parent, but despite this his heart was beating quickly with excitement. It could only be the relief of having someone to talk to after a month of near total introversion.

"Now now, it doesn't matter that much. Um...are you ready then? If there's anything else you needed to do first, go right ahead."

"For Hell's sake, are you going to keep me in suspense all night?! Come on, tell me what you mean." The angel gave him such a look of excitement, biting his thumb with a giddy smile, that for a moment his mouth went quite dry.

Aziraphale snapped his fingers once more, and the store around them shifted and swayed, walls of darkness rolling down from every corner. The books, lights and furniture all vanished, and for a moment there was nothing but an expanse of pitch. Crowley instinctively reached out for the angel, stumbling forward into nothing, before a new scene came into view.

The hardwood floor gave way to carpet, a flood of lights pouring in from all directions; they soon settled down to a soft ambiance, cascading over the walls. There was a distinct smell of dust and paint, the air cool as Crowley breathed in sharply. Looking around wildly, he found himself clutching onto Aziraphale's shoulder, who smiled and pat his back comfortingly.

"I'm sorry, dear, I suppose this was all a bit too sudden." he said remorsefully, looking with slight worry at the creature who swiftly stepped back after a few long breaths.

"Wh-w-what is this?! Where are we?" 

"Wyndham's Theatre. Well, rather a version of it. This isn't real, not at all; I've created this room for us. I know it isn't all that accurate to reality... but I spent such a long time trying to make it just right!"

"Wait...angel, you created all this?" he said in amazement, staring at all the intricate decoration surrounding them. Carvings shimmering with gold lined nearly every surface, and he slowly ran a fingertip over the edge of the balcony he stood behind.

"Well, yes. I went to see _Godspell_ and thought I'd try re-creating it for the both of us. It's quite a nice play, with so much energy and music! It's just...you know, I've been feeling so awful that you have to stay in the store all the time, so I thought I'd find a way to work around it. We're still in the store, but you get to experience having a night outside. A version of it, as I've said."

Crowley was in a daze for the next few minutes, swaying as the angel ushered him to a seat in the small isle. The rest of the theater was empty of humans, aside from the mirage of a cast that spread out on the stage from behind a curtain as soon as the angel waved his hand. The features on their faces were blurry, their outfits seeming to create a cast of colorful smoke around them, and their voices echoed as an utterance in a deep cave.

He could hardly focus on any aspect of the play; the angel had created an entire fucking _pocket universe_ for him, most likely because the demon wouldn't stop complaining. All this time he'd thought he had better things to do with his time than be around Crowley, that he'd finally grown sick of listening to him; that he'd become nothing but an annoyance to the angel. 

He threw a hand over his mouth and began to laugh, deep and loud. The auditorium resounded with the sound, phantom actors below remaining unaware and going on about their performances.

"What's so funny?" Aziraphale finally whispered, tugging the demon's sleeve as he shot a look at him and then back to the stage, trying to find the source of the amusement. 

"Nothing, nothing," Crowley began, trying to muffle his voice through his palm, "It's just... _fuck,_ angel. All this time I thought you were-oh nevermind." he said, nearly choking through the laughter.

"You thought what?" he grumbled, bristling as he waited for a response.

"I don't know-that you were off seeing the world and getting up to all sorts of adventures-and all this entire time you were out seeing a _musical?"_

"I wasn't just seeing this one play, dear. I'll have you know I've sampled many performances and decided this would be the most appropriate. What, is it that funny? I really did try my best to create this accurately." he said as he pursed his lips. "If it isn't to your liking-"

"No no, it's fine. Much more than fine. You've done an amazing job, angel. Fucking _fantastic."_ the angel flushed a bit and locked eyes onto the stage. They both finally settled into quiet for the remainder of the play.

Throughout the night, Crowley slowly shifted his gaze over to Aziraphale, whose face was washed in a dim, golden light. He was muttering about the importance of this scene, the parable of the Sower, the brilliance of Stephen Schwartz...his eyes kept brightening up, cheeks going rosy with cheer.

It became apparent after a while that the strain of generating such a massive display for so long was getting to the angel, the singing forms growing more and more muddled and translucent by the second. Their voices took on a haunting ring, darkness slowly dripping into every corner of the room and seeping up from the floor.

"Angel, I think we better, ah, go back home." Crowley muttered, sliding his eyes from the dimming view to the angel, who was gradually slumping into his seat. "Think even this is a bit much for you to handle for so long-and to this extent."

" _Mm-what?_ We haven't even made it to the second act!" came his slurred reply, squinting his eyes at the beast. 

"Doesn't matter, I've seen enough." He got to his feet and waited for Aziraphale to follow, but the angel was stubbornly trying to hold onto what visions he could. "Angel-"

"No, I can keep going..." his words were muffled through his arm, forehead pressed into his palm. Crowley knew the angel's head must be pounding by now; he was a dedicated bastard, he had to admit.

Only a few minutes passed before all the illusions swirled together and faded, leaving them standing back in the bookstore, albeit unsteady. With no chair to hold him, Aziraphale began to collapse to the floor, and the demon hastily caught him by the back of his shirt and hoisted him back to his feet. 

"You can 'keep going', hm? You really overdid yourself this time." he tried to chide to the angel, who looked up at him with a hazy expression before slumping onto the floor, out like a celestial light bulb. Crowley sighed, gathering up the angel in his arms and carrying him over to the sofa. 

The demon rubbed his face, sinking into an armchair himself. He looked over at the sleeping angel and chuckled quietly to himself. He swept his braid around his shoulder and began to undo it, but stopped as his hands felt over the little makeshift bow that remained at the end. His hair would become dreadfully tousled, but he'd keep it just for tonight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Everything I know about Godspell is based on research online, which may be completely inaccurate, as I know next to nothing about theatrical plays from the 1970's and can't find a way to watch any version of it. Sorry if that bothers anybody! :)


	15. Unclear Instructions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoy a little fluff intermission. Angst incoming! :D

When the angel awoke, he grimaced at the smell of burning that permeated throughout the store. He brought a palm up to his face, shielding his eyes from the light of day with a deep yawn. He heard a clatter of metal against the wood floor, followed by a nearly inaudible curse. 

"Crowley, what in Heaven's name are you doing?" he called out, groaning as he straightened himself up on the sofa and smoothing a hand over his hair.

"Angel? Shit, I didn't know you'd be awake this early. Can you go back to sleep for a while longer?" came the muffled reply, then a few clangs of silver hitting a hard surface.

" _Mmm_...how long was I sleeping?" 

"I'd say maybe nine hours, give or take."

"Nine-oh goodness, what an utter waste of time!" he said, picking himself up to follow the demon's voice, which lead into the small kitchenette a little ways past Crowley's room, situated snugly behind a wall. "I've been sleeping so much these past few months, losing so much precious-why didn't you wake me, dear?"

"You were exhausted from last night. You remember, don't you? You toppled onto the floor as if you'd decided to take a little vacation from your body for a while."

"Yes...I apologize for not listening to your advice. I just wanted to make the most of the experience." he said, walking into the room and watched Crowley quickly trying to clean up a mess of soot and silverware. "What are you...?"

"Angel! You're not supposed to be up so soon." he said through gritted teeth, a large stain of something black coating his hands and clothes. It actually blended in quite nicely over his clothes. 

"Are you trying to...cook?" he questioned, squinting his eyes as his mind began to clear from his long slumber.

"Course' not. What could I possibly create? You have nothing, no ingredients, perishable or otherwise. I thought, well, if the angel has a place to cook then he must at least have some fucking _eggs."_

"I've never tried to cooked anything myself, so I didn't think it was necessary- I've never had much of an affinity with culinary arts. What did you need?"

"Well, I was honestly just trying to see if I could get the damned stove to work. I can't believe you kept this thing after all these years..."

"Ah, I haven't ever tried it..." he trailed, feel a tad self-conscious now that he looked at the broken-down contraption. "I was far too focused on moving in my books."

"...No wonder _that_ happened, then. Well, s'a good thing my body's resistant to fire, or else I would've lost my hands this morning." he said with a twitching smile, patting the creaky device that created a puff of dust in the air around him. "I guess these things do degrade with age."

"Goodness, you could've caught the entire store on fire!"

"I know, s'why I stopped. I was hoping maybe you could...work a bit of your magic on this thing? I wanted to wait till you slept off your...miracle hangover." he said hopefully, tilting his head towards the angel. 

"I suppose." he said with a soft grin, trying to envision the newer gas stoves he'd eyed in a few magazines. The current one was quite possibly a fire hazard regardless of how many miracles he might use to fix it. He snapped his fingers, bringing the contraption a new life.

"Thanks and-sorry, I shouldn't have asked you to do that after last night. You've been tired out enough." he muttered sheepishly, running fingers over the surface as he gazed down at it in satisfaction.

"No, no. It's fine, I promise. I just overestimated my current capabilities, but doing this right now is nothing more tiring than...well, taking a breath? Ah...I used to be able to pull off much more than just that. I'm just a little rusty. Working Her divine through my fingers a bit like trying to run water through partially clogged pipes."

"If you're sure... now, what would you like? I've not really-you don't...happen to have a cookbook lying around somewhere, do you?" Aziraphale chuckled, leaning against a shelf and watching the demon redden. "I mean, all these books, not a single one with a recipe wedged inside?"

"You've never cooked before either, have you?"

"I-well, you've no place to judge! Look, just tell me what you want and I'll find out how to make it. Somehow." he grumbled, scowling as he turned back to the stove and started inspecting the various buttons.

"Of course. Hm...oh! What about a cake?! It's rather basic, just a few ingredients you plop together, and _ahh,_ it sounds positively wonderful today!" 

"Sounds fine to me. What about the ingredients?"

"Well, I'll have to go out and buy those myself. I'd have a difficult time creating one I haven't tasted. It might turn out inedible, at least by human standards."

"Alright, well I'll try to figure this blasted machine out while you're gone. Hurry back." he finished, running hands back through his hair to secure them behind his ears. The angel nodded, giving one doubtful look back before he left.

* * *

"Great! You know what is supposed to be done first, right?" Crowley said, grabbing ingredients out of the grocery bag that'd been rested on the floor a few minutes back and piling everything to one side as the angel pulled up a chair to watch. "I have a bowl here, but will I need more than one?"

"Ah, I'm not sure. I ran to the library and flipped through a cookbook, but I think I might've been mistaken..." 

"Mistaken? How so?" 

"They looked different, had different shapes than the pan you're holding up, my dear. It was round, but had a hold in the center." he tried to copy the imagine in his mind with a few vague gestures, and Crowley squinted at the sight curiously.

"...Are you thinking of Bundt cake?"

"Yes, that was it! Oh dear, I wonder if it will work all the same..." he moaned, looking around for a pen that flew out of his grasp after an accidental hand motion.

"Eh, should be good enough. Alright, tell me what to do, angel." He started looking through the mountain of ingredients, cautiously tearing open a bag of flour.

"Hm...you're supposed to butter the pan so the cake doesn't stick, then sprinkle some flour over that so it isn't too oily, and then...ah, I made a little list of the portions of each ingredient you're going to need." he said with a grin, pulling a small note out of his vest pocket and handing it to Crowley. The demon grimaced at the messy writing, trying to decipher each word. "I'm beginning to think I should've just bought a cookbook after all..."

"Yeah alright." he muttered, spinning an egg around in his fingers before chucking it in a bowl with a clang. He reached for the flour, about to reach in with a bare hand.

"...No, no! You're supposed to mix the wet ingredients together first, then the dry. Then mix those together, you see."

"What difference does it make?"

"Ah, I'm not quite sure." he said honestly, searching his memory for any mention of the necessity of separate proportions. 

"Does it really matter?"

"Yes, now follow the instructions!" he scolded, stirring a sugar cube into a cup of coffee in his lap. "We can only assume it's of the utmost importance."

"How do you open the eggs?" the demon grunted after a few minutes, tapping at one with his claw. Before the angel could respond, he squeezed too hard with his palm and the thing exploded in his grasp. Yolk oozed down his arm, coating his shirt in yellow."Shit!" 

"Oh dear!" the angel began, holding laughter back behind his hand, flicking a hand to miracle away the mess. "You strike it- _gently_ -against the counter." The demon begrudgingly nodded, setting about the rest of the task. "You see, this is because the egg is created in a wonderful, meaningful way. It's just hard enough to protect the baby chick inside- or the hypothetical one, in any case- and soft enough so that-

"...Angel, hate to keep asking questions, but what in the name of Satan is a 'g'?" he turned the note around in his hand and pointed with a grimace.

"Ah, that's a...gram? I'm...not actually sure how much that is, unfortunately. I assumed you would." 

"How is it that we've been on Earth since the beginning of time and have never-oh, whatever, I'm sure it'll be fine if I guess it. There were hardly measurements for baking back in Mesopotamia."

"I'm not certain if that's a good idea..." he breathed, watching the beast empty half a bag of sugar into the bowl with three handfuls of flour.

"It'll be fine, angel." he said, waving a hand for emphasis.

* * *

It wasn't long before the a concoction of smells wafted over to the angel, who stood up to go look over Crowley's shoulder with interest.

"Hm, I think perhaps you've missed something." 

"What? How could I have miss- _angel!_ " The demon growled as Aziraphale dipped a finger into the messy bowl, lifting it up to his mouth with a satisfied smile. 

"MMm-no, I was wrong. It's perfect." he sighed, a bit of the batter smearing the side of his lips. Crowley wasn't any tidier, flour already coating his dark clothes with as much contrast as a neon signpost against a traffic light. Hair was beginning to fall out of his braid, and he hastily reached up to tie it back, though ended up getting dribbles of batter in it as well. 

"Go get back to your resting. I'll be done before you know it-in fact, much quicker if you aren't eating all of it!"

Aziraphale chuckled and walked back to his study, listening the fading sound of something tumbling to the ground and another hiss of frustration. After he closed the door and set the coffee down on his desk, he picked up his notebook, trying to recollect his thoughts. 

He really hadn't been writing in it for some time. It wasn't that he hadn't anything to write, but that he kept getting so distracted by the demon and all his conversations. It was so hard to get into a proper thought-space now, where he could piece all the information he'd learned from the day together and reference it with previously stored knowledge.

It'd be easy enough to write out the events that had taken place over the morning, describe the sense of joy he'd felt simply interacting with the beast, but he had to compile something more valuable. He needed to know more. He had to learn everything.

* * *

"Fuck!" rang Crowley's voice through the store, the scent of scorched food creeping into the angel's study. He sighed, setting his reading glasses on his desk, book still hanging open to inspect the certain disaster.

"I'm going to assume the recipe didn't go as planned?" Aziraphale said softly as he entered the kitchenette, grimacing at the sight of blackened, smoking...something, that bubbled out of the cake pan on top of the stove.

"Don't you dare tell me 'I told you so', angel." Crowley snarled, trying to scrape what he could out of the pan before it became too stuck to the interior. "Oh fucking Satan, damn everything, what a _disaster_."

"I wouldn't dream of it, dear. I'm sorry, Crowley...I'll go buy us a proper one." The demon glared up at him, but didn't refuse the offer, instead marching back to his room and slumping down on his bed. "It's alright, dear, it really is. You tried your best. I'm sure it was just one little issue that could easily have been fixed."

"Sure, suit yourself." he grumbled, pulling a blanket over his head. 

"What, aren't you going to have any?" the angel questioned, walking over to peer in the bedroom. Hair was drooping out of the covers like scarlet vines, tangling between his scaly fingertips, and his wings were bunched up underneath the covering, threatening to spill out of the space. "You worked so hard to create that cake, I assumed you had a sweet tooth today."

"Apparently not hard enough...and no, it was going to be for you." his voice was barely audible, muted by the multiple layers he was wrapped up in. Aziraphale walked a few steps closer, knitting his brow in sympathy.

"What? Surely you want a slice, even just one. What's it matter who makes it, anyway?" he muttered, coming to sit cross-legged on a pillow that was messily strewn on the floor by the bed.

"...It matters because it was for _you_. I wanted to make something, something to repay you somehow for everything you've been doing."

"Crowley-"

"You've done too much for me, angel, and last night was...it was _amazing_. Sure, I've seen plays before, but I've never seen one... _with_ someone. Someone who didn't want to kill me, anyway. Not only that, but you made it for me. You created it all yourself, carving out every feature with such care and precision and...I know a fucking _cake_ isn't going to be anywhere near as meaningful, but it's the best I've got. Or would've, anyway, if I wasn't such an idiot and destroyed the entire blasted thing."

"Oh Crowley, it was gift enough for you to give it a go, and I really enjoyed simply having your company throughout the morning." he grinned, the demon turning his face away and burrowing deeper under the covers. "Ah, sorry. Angels tend to get a bit sentimental. I just mean...thank you. Even if it didn't go as planned, I'll consider it a gift."

"S'fine." 

"...Are you really going to waste another day sleeping?"

"M'not sleeping, just going to pretend I don't exist for a while."

"Oh dear, how long?"

"Till I feel like existing again."

"Ah, whenever you feel...up to existing once again, would you like to give it another try?" he managed, wondering if he should rub a hand over the wing that was so close to his face. He doubted the beast would be in much of a mood for it now, though.

"Hm?"

"Well, I'm sure the recipe would've come out perfect if you'd just have adjusted a few things...for instance, perhaps the temperature for the oven was a bit too high. How high did you set it to?"

"As high as it would go."

"What?!"

"I-isn't that what you're supposed to do? The hotter it is, the faster it bakes, right?" he said, turning his face so his eyes were visible under the blankets; two yellow crescent orbs in the darkness.

"Well, I'd say there's already something we could work on in our next attempt. As for the measurements, I'll have to go do a bit more research on the matter, but I'm sure with a bit of practice, it's all quite easy."

"Don't see the point. I'll just fuck it all up again."

"We'll do it together. I have research to catch up on, but-I know, I'll ask you some questions as we work. That way, I'll be able to balance two things at once! Assuming you'll comply with this, demon..." he said amusedly, watching the small shuffle of interest before it was lost again.

"Ah, more of your ongoing _interrogation_ , hm?" 

"It's not-oh, just hurry and rest up. I'll be back soon."


	16. Pyrrhic Victory

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning for mild forced eating!

Aziraphale waited impatiently by the stove, peering into the oven every few minutes as Crowley rambled on for the hundredth time about the various jobs he'd been tasked with throughout history. The angel had scribbled most of it in a notebook, but had been losing more and more focus as the moments went by, too absorbed by the stories.

"Wait, so you're implying...well, you know, that in all your days on Earth you haven't...ah..."

"Haven't what?"

"... _Killed_ anybody? Not a single person, in order to secure their soul for Hell, or-"

"No! Of course not-on purpose, anyway. S'not included in my job, and I'd be shit at it if it was." he grumbled, tapping his claws restlessly against the small counter space.

"I just don't understand." the angel muttered, twirling his pencil against his cheek, "I was always told your kind were consumed with blood-lust, the urge to slaughter and lacerate all the innocent, and-"

"Of _course_ you were told that, angel." he sighed, the hint of a smile playing around his mouth despite his annoyed tone. "Those bastards v' got to have to blame something for all the horrible shit humans do to each other. Listen, m' not saying nobody on my side has ever killed. In fact I'm sure many have, but I haven't. Not yet, anyway."

"Ah, so you would if you could, then!" he said a bit too brightly, lifting a hand to his mouth and gasping in mock surprise. 

"Honestly, angel, you're far too morbidly curious for your own good..." he trailed off, reaching down to pull the cake out of the oven and looked down with a squint. "Hmm...not bad, I suppose. Better, at least. Guess doing things by the book isn't such a bad idea- sometimes."

"Indeed. Can I have a taste now?" he said merrily, plopping his notebook on a bench and hopping from his seat. He walked over to inspect the dessert as well, smelling it with a wide grin. "Oh, it looks marvelous! You've done such a wonderful job! Not a hint of char this anywhere this time."

" _We've_ done a 'wonderful job'. More like average, at beast; just look at the state of the pan, and ah, this side's all burnt..." he turned the thing in his hand, tilting to see the overall damage.

"Nothing to worry about, dear. It was much too fun to create it. It didn't need to look perfect whatsoever, I'm sure it'll be the best thing I've tasted in months." 

"Yeah, fun. S'always 'fun' with you, isn't it?" the demon grumbled, rubbing a hand over his brow. 

"Shush now, I had a wonderful time-" he mumbled as he waved a finger over the top of the cake, instantly gleaming with a fresh, rich coat of chocolate frosting to match. He slid a finger through the icing, catching a few crumbs of the cake as he went. "Oh, it's exquisite! You have to try some at once." he said enthusiastically, cutting out a slice and placing it on a small, pearly saucer that was hardly long enough to contain the entire thing; he hadn't used the set of china since he bought it a few centuries before.

"M'fine. Like I said, I intended it to be for you. Have the whole thing if you like." he said, voice growing more quiet. "It looks disgusting to me."

"Nonsense, at least try a little. I promise you, you can't taste the charred bits at all!" he murmured through a mouthful of chocolate, face gleaming. 

"Maybe." he sighed. Crowley followed the angel through the foyer, coming to rest at opposite ends of the sofa in Aziraphale's study. It'd become their usual spots by now, the familiarity of the cushions somehow pricking at the demon's nerves. Everything was familiar now, wasn't it?

The angel sat a plate of the dessert on Crowley's lap with a smile, already going through his second slice and pouring himself another cup of tea. He had a bit of frosting clinging to his chin, but didn't seem to notice- or care.

The beginnings of a sunset speckled the store in various places, casting a gold-tinged aura on everything. Aziraphale picked up a blanket and draped it around himself, humming with contentment as he nuzzled further into the sofa. It would've been nicer if the old gramophone could play something quiet in the background, a gentle melody to carry throughout the afternoon, but it sat in a heap on the floor for the time being. The angel thought better than to ask about it right now, feeling an odd tension in the room.

"I'm so happy, my dear. I really am! This was such a pleasant idea, wasn't it?" he wiggled in his seat, holding back the urge to lick his spoon. 

The demon swallowed, looking down at the plate below him with a grimace. He eventually set it back down on the table to his side, legs kicking restlessly. His jaw tightened as he lifted his eyes back up to the angel, who was still smiling carelessly at him. _How easy it'd be for a few little bad days to wipe it off forever._

"Yeah."

"If you really enjoyed last night so much that you felt compelled to make something so lovely this morning, perhaps we should try different things as well. Museums, parks, arboretums...there's so much to explore, so much I've never seen before! Doesn't matter the time, place, anything. I could do my best to re-create it- given proper time and research, that is." Thoughts were pouring into his subconscious, dots to be connected at a later time. Things would be alright. He had time to savor everything.

"Sure." He chewed on his lower lip, crossing his arms and tapping his elbows with his claws. His wondered if scales could grow within his body as well, because he felt as if his form was turning against himself and lacerating him from the inside-out. There was a heat in his stomach, a burning that didn't belong there, like a pool of fire that would bubble up and gurgle out of his throat if he spoke too loudly. _But it does belong there, now doesn't it?_

"Ah...Crowley, is there something on your mind?" he said quietly, setting the plate back down and looking over with concern. "Are you still angry the cake didn't go so well the first time? It's alright, you know. It was only your first try! I'm sure you'll get the hang of it soon enough." _Look at him, he'll never see it coming._

"..."

"What's wrong? Ah, if you really don't want to eat that, I'm not going to force you, dear. Perhaps you'd like to go rest for a while? It has been a long day." _He's going to die._

"For fuck's sake, angel, I don't give a damn about the _cake!"_ he spat, whipping his head around and staring fiercely at the surprised angel. Aziraphale nearly dropped his plate, tensing backwards on the seat. His heart began to thud, feeling the creeping sensation of tension that'd been slowly growing in the store rise all at once. He knew whatever had been festering in the beast's head was quickly boiling to the surface.

"Crowley?" he whispered, reaching out his hand hesitantly. The demon flinched as the touch grazed over his arm, shifting further away. He looked like a cornered animal, nerves balancing on the tip of a thorn.

"This is all so stupid." he finally spoke, voice cold and sharp. He tapped a heel quickly on the floor, brows scrunching as he glared at the floor. "All of it. Everything's all wrong, and we're in here... _baking?!"_

"Didn't you enjoy yourself today?"

"I _did,_ angel, and that's the fucking problem. We're acting as if nothing's wrong, nothing can hurt us in here, and yet any second all of it could fall apart. If someone finds out about me, strolling around in the middle of the store without a care, how do you think they'll respond?"

"Ah, as I've said, it functions like a prison-"

"It _doesn't,_ and hasn't for a long time. You made it so easy for me to escape-you did everything to make sure I could run off the moment you turned your back."

"I-" he stuttered, finding his words quickly enveloped in the rising anxiety pulsing up in his chest.

"You left the door unlocked, angel. You thought I wouldn't notice? That I'd think it just slipped past you? That I'd just run off in the night, and leave you to face whatever martyrdom you've decided to subject yourself to?!" His voice was growing louder, starting to echoing in the little room with a piercing ring.

"No, I didn't mean- _Crowley-"_

"Just shut up, stop trying to make sense of everything!" he yelled, grabbing the angel's shoulders and staring into his startled eyes. "They have no mercy, Aziraphale. It's not in the nature of perfection to forgive what can't be cleansed with enough fire." he was panting, eyes blazing with images the angel would never know. "Stop trying to protect me! I don't deserve it. I never have deserved any of your kindness, and m' never going to earn it. S'like you're throwing all that gentleness and good will into a giant hole in the ground that'll swallow you up soon enough. And when you're buried beneath the surface, you'll slowly be recycled into something deemed useful. There won't be any sense then."

"What-dear, calm down!" he squeaked, heart jumping as he tried to turn his face away from the beast's flickering glare. "What's all this about...holes in the ground? Oh, just breathe. Calm down and we'll sort this all out soon enough. There's no need to ruin a lovely afternoon with worry."

"No, you're not putting this off any longer." he growled, drooping his forehead on the angel's shoulder as he spoke. All his words were jumbling together, frantic snarls into his ear. "I know you think everything is worth saving, that all of Her creatures are deserving of second chances. That I'm just some unfortunate bastard who was in the wrong place at the wrong time, but none of this was a coincidence. I was meant to be here. I don't deserve your mercy." Aziraphale's pulse froze. He somehow knew the meaning behind the creature's words before he even spoke, sensing a dread in the air between them.

"...What do you mean?" he whispered, feeling the demon tense up against him. He prodded Crowley's shoulder with a palm, trying to look into his eyes for some sort of expression that might help him understand, but he wouldn't budge. He was sealed to his skin like a cauterized wound, every damaged nerve part of his own system.

There were so many energies searing through him all at once, sensing them rising up through the beast with every passing moment. There was anger, but it most certainly wasn't directed at him. A wave of that same fear he'd come to know well, since he first began to patch up the demon's wounds; it was growing as well, rising like a suffocating blanket that might soon cover the entire store.  
There was something else hidden throughout, but he couldn't quite put his finger on it. Everything was mixing together, and as a result it was making it incredibly difficult to focus on any single sensation for long. 

"It was no accident that I was captured. It was part of a job. I was supposed to get caught, beaten. I was supposed to let them think they'd broken me, but I thought I could hold out longer than I did." He felt the angel begin to tremble against him. 

"I was supposed to watch, listen, and on the off-chance that I actually learned something useful...find a way to discorporate, even if I had to tear into my own neck with my nails." A tear fell down his neck, and he wasn't sure if it was his own or the angel's.

"I'd report back to Hell, give them everything I found out, and maybe get some sort of reward if I was lucky. If I wasn't, if Heaven just annihilated me completely, that didn't matter either. Like your boss said, a demon's like a strand of hair. Lose one, and there's plenty more to replace it."

This time, he knew the tears he felt dripping onto him were Aziraphale's, listening to shuddering sobs against his ear. Arms wrapped gently around his back, hands clutching into his wings.  
"I didn't think they'd go so far with their punishments. I thought they'd just lock me up-I didn't know they'd tear me apart but still keep me breathing. I had hardly an idea which was going to be worse: discorporating before I'd learned I'd anything of value, or live an eternity of what Heaven was putting me through. It was all years ago when it began. I didn't really think it mattered at the time; s'not like I had much else to do. I couldn't hide forever."

"B-ut-no, why didn't you tell me?" 

"Why? Because you were right. All along you knew; I was trying to gain your trust. I saw you, the timid, soft thing you are, and knew you'd be easy to manipulate. I thought I'd finally had a stroke of luck, that all I had to do earn your trust. That's all you were to me, angel: a source of information. If I just waited long enough for you to let your guard down, you'd give me anything I needed. You were trying to learn from me, and I was trying to learn from you."

"Learn _what?_ What could possibly be so important that you'd surrender yourself to torment so freely for it?"

"About the end. The end of everything. What else could there be? I was supposed to discover at least a few things that might help us in the final battle. I thought, well, if Heaven is going to wipe us out soon enough anyway, what's it matter if I go a bit early?" He heard more sharp whimpers next to him, burying his nose further into the shoulder. "You don't understand, angel. There wasn't any reason to stay. I've tasted all the sins of this world and all it gave me was a bad taste in my mouth. I was comfortable with the idea of dying."

"I-I can't even imagine-how could you ever do something so horrible to yourself?! This-it's not fair! You have no idea what you looked like, what you sounded like...everything was swelled up and pulsing, your blood burning and soaked into my clothes, and-you're saying you did all of it to yourself on purpose?" The angel wanted to be angry, to raise his voice and yell out his words with as much force as he could muster, but they kept getting choked in his throat as it tightened around them. "How could you do it?"

"Because nobody ever told me I was worth anything before." he said more softly, trying to muffle the weight of his words in the fabric. "I thought at first you were just trying to make yourself feel better by helping me, like all the other hypocrites I've grown to know. That you'd eventually snap, burn my skin off like you're supposed to. Instead, you just had to keep giving me sympathy like a bloody idiot."

"I hardly know what I am anymore." he whimpered, trying to look away and hide his face as the demon reached to look up at him. "I can't do anything as I'm supposed to-and I have no idea what that even is anymore. If what's good isn't even what's right, then where do I fit in? Perfection, and servitude to it was supposed to be my function."

"Don't cry. Not for me." Aziraphale sniffled a few times, clamping his eyes shut. Now he was the one who felt like a caged animal, writhing against someone he shouldn't know or feel safe around. "I don't know what's going to happen, but I'm not going to let you take the fall for what I've done to you. You're a strange angel, I'll give you that, but not a bad one at all."

"Please, leave this place." he said suddenly, clutching his hands deeper into the demon's shirt. "I've given you permission, so go. I won't tell-"

"Angel-you don't know what Heaven might do to you!" he hissed, backing away to stare at him with exasperation. "I'm not going to fucking leave you to them. Are you thinking clearly right now?"

"For my sake, Crowley. Don't worry about me. Everything will be alright; I'm in Her hands." he tried to stay calm, but felt more tears drip down from his chin. "Oh dear, I must look positively unsightly! My eyes are all puffy now." he said almost merrily, wiping down his face with a sleeve. "It's not becoming."

"No. Absolutely not. You really think She'd give a damn what happens to you? Have you been blinded to everything these past few years-or even eternity?! They will take you apart, piece by piece, and put you back together in the shape of an angel."

"Maybe Heaven won't mind so much...I could just tell them-"

"Tell them _what?_ I've seen what they do when they decide to 'punish' someone-I still have it written into my skin. I'm not going to let you throw yourself away without a care."

"...That's hardly your choice to make, is it?" he muttered, voice growing hollow. "Besides, you were so quick to give yourself away for something you believed in, so why should it be any different like this?"

"Th-Aziraphale, there's a difference between the _end of the world_ and one being. You can't let your empathy blind you to everything that's important."

"Don't you dare say it, that you're as easy to replace as a strand of hair, or-I don't care what you are. Duty or not, I can't stand for it any longer. Leave my store." 

"Azir-"

"Go! Go away, you horrible beast! How many times do I have to say it?! I'm giving you every chance, so take your leave and forget about all this rubbish!" He felt the burn of more tears sting at the corners of his eyes, his form buzzing with static beneath his rising yell. To think he'd gotten so comfortable with the prospect of living peacefully like this, when all along it'd been nothing more than a pipe dream. There would never be any lasting comfort for him.

His angry sobs echoed freely through the room, clutching his fingers into the sofa till his knuckles nearly ached. His breath was coming out in short gasps, vision blurred beyond help.

"This is-no, this is all wrong! I meant for you to have a nice surprise for once, not-I've spoiled everything...let's just go back to how thing's were." The beast grabbed the cake dish from the floor, reaching it back up to the angel's lap. "Let's not think about anything, just-"

"Crowley, you think we can pretend nothing's happened?" he snapped, straining his eyes to look at the creature despite the whirring state of his own mind. All the sensations in the room, emotions both the demon's and his own were interweaving at once, joining as one whole, and it was becoming impossible to form a string of thought above it all.

"That was working well enough before, wasn't it?" he mumbled, holding the plate closer to the angel's face. "Come on, eat. It was intended just for you, so we shouldn't let it go to waste." Aziraphale turned his face away, head too filled with pulsing thoughts to come up with a retort.

The demon grabbed a spoon, jabbing it down into the dessert and brought it up to the angel's mouth, pressing against it forcefully. "What's the matter? You've enjoyed it up until now, didn't you? What's made it so unappetizing all of a sudden?" he hissed, thrusting the utensil through his lips as soon as the angel tried to speak. 

Aziraphale nearly choked at the sudden movement, trying to push himself backwards into the sofa, but the beast soon followed. "What, does it taste awful all of a sudden? Want me to throw it out?" His words were harsh, biting around every syllable. 

The angel clamped his eyes shut, more tears streaking down his cheeks. The demon crawled onto his lap, resting his knees on either side of Aziraphale's thighs. He sat perched over the angel, hovering his wings in midair, creating a barrier between them and the rest of the world.

Aziraphale tried to respond, but the demon clamped a hand over his mouth. He could see clearly the coarse scarring of where the beast's claws had been ripped out at some point before he came to the store. He wouldn't have been able to form a word if he tried, eyes widening at the sight; he felt that same sickness beginning to well up as he remembered all the suffering the creature had endured. Suffering that could've so easily been prevented, if only he was allowed mercy. 

"Come on now, can't you swallow just this one little bite? After that I can get you anything else you'd prefer. I promise it won't be disgusting as this shit. What do you want? Tell me." The angel wailed against his palm, grabbing it with both his hands and pulling it in closer. The beast jolted, watching in a trance as Aziraphale clutched the gnarled fingertips and pressed them up against his quivering mouth. 

"I just want this to all be over!" he cried, weeping in between the stiff fingers. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I sor-" he began, words turning incoherent as his chest grew tight and he gasped in each breath. His whole body felt a mixture of lightness and heaviness, as if he was floating and weighted to the ground at the same time. There was such an incredibly strong sensation that was flowing throughout all of him now, one that'd grown through everything else and ended up twisting around his heart. 

Crowley began to tremble, trying to tug his hand back as warm tears pooled onto it. He finally reached up his other hand and cupped the two sides of the angel's face, holding it firm. He tried to hold his glare, twitching as Aziraphale continued to sniffle under him.

"Listen to me, do I seem like a creature that's worth throwing away your life for?!" he whispered gratingly. "Look at yourself, look at what I've reduced you to. You're willing to give freedom to something that tempted you into it? Used your kindness so it could run back to its realm, then leave you to face the consequences! You should should be infuriated. Revolted. You should _never_ apologize to me."

"Crowley..." he choked, struggling to catch his breath and squinting to see with his blurry vision. The demon growled, throwing his arms around the angel and yanking him against his chest. Aziraphale was temporarily blinded by a dark wing as it met his face, continuing to sob into the feathers. The strength of the frantic hold could've been suffocating if the beast hadn't grown so weak with his shaking, rasping out short breaths against the side of his face. 

"I'm sorry, angel." he finally whispered, rubbing in between his shoulder blades in slow, circular strokes. "Please don't cry. Please don't cry." he murmured softly. Aziraphale shivered against him, the feelings that had been coursing in him finally slowing; now all that remained was a warmth that was spreading throughout him and chasing away all the cold that'd grown in his despair. They stayed connected like this, the beast continuing to mumble words beside him as his shivering began to subside.

"I'm so sorry. You didn't deserve any of this. It's alright, you're going to be okay. I've got you. I've got you."

He soon began to relax into the hold, letting his head droop against the demon's shoulder. He felt his breathing calm down to a normal pace, though his body felt weak. resigning completely to the secure arms that held him tight. He felt meditative, or drunk, or- anything, any words that could describe the feeling of letting out thousands of years' worth of ache in his heart. Not only that, but to someone he'd only known for a few of them, and having this sensation reciprocated. It was a strange euphoria like nothing he'd ever experienced.

The evening had seemingly flown right past them, darkness seeping into the floor as only a lamp provided light in the room. A train sped by somewhere far away, audible even through the thick walls. The store felt safer somehow right now, like they were able to hide away from the rest of the world. As if they were both in a perfect shelter.

Aziraphale began to feel exhausted as the stress drained out of his system, and Crowley soon unlatched his arms to pick him up and lay him into the cushions, wings already moving to cover him; in truth, nothing sounded quite as lovely right now, but he stopped the beast as he hooked his hands under his arms. 

"Crowley, I-"

"You don't have to say anything, angel. I know, I acted like a fucking idiot, and ruined the whole day; whatever we have to sort out, we can do so in the morning-and if anybody or anything tries to attack us before that, I give you my word I'll tear them apart." he finished the sentence with a tiny snarl.

"No, what I mean to say is...you feel strange." The demon looked at him questioningly, tilting his head slightly.

"I...feel...? Well, that's to be expected, isn't it? Demon and all-"

"No, no. Not like that. You feel different. Well, not different, per say, but there's an odd sensation-rather, a feeling that's been growing around you since soon after we met. Today, though, it's incredibly strong-"

"You're being ridiculous." he said quickly, pushing the angel down into pillows with a gentle thud, the demon huddling up next to him with what little space was left. Soon both of them were safely buried in the shelter of feathers, and any thoughts of worry swiftly washed away.


	17. Split in the Road

It was long past sunrise, and way past the time Aziraphale would've chided himself for wasting the day in any other situation, but right now he only wished the minutes could pass by slower. 

He was perfectly warm, surrounded by the softest covering he could imagine, next to the first being he'd reluctantly gotten comfortable around. Everything beyond his little refuge seemed so far away right now, so cold and empty compared to this. He knew that if he stayed right here he'd be completely safe, and the moment he moved it would all go away. 

Unfortunately, he'd been saying that to himself for hours now, and he felt weak as he finally opened his mouth to break the lovely silence that encased everything around.

"...Crowley?" he breathed, a nearly inaudible whisper, silently hoping the demon wouldn't stir at his words. Of course, that wouldn't matter anyway, as he knew the beast was already awake; he'd sensed the shift of breath, the eyes that had drifted open and continuously stared at the back of his neck. It cast a slight glow in front of him, interrupting the constant flow of darkness all around. He could tell the creature was trying his best to hide it well.

"Crowley." he repeated, a proper word this time. The demon continued to pretend to sleep, though the blanket of feathers around him grew tighter as the beast pressed it closer to the both of them. 

"We can't stay like this forever, you know." he muttered, trying for a moment to lift himself up from his resting position, but the creature soon pressed him deeper into the cushions, further into the safety and warmth.

"I don't see why not." Crowley finally murmured, his voice partially muted by the nape it hovered next to. The angel's skin prickled at the breath cast upon it.

"You do. Yes, I'd be content to stay like this for a while longer, but-"

"Then why should we bother changing anything? We could stay like this for months if you wanted. There's no reason to go anywhere."

"It's a lovely thought, but we're only putting off what we both know will have to be said eventually." 

"..."

"I don't this to ruin another day. We need a...change in the routine, yes, but it doesn't have to cause any more pain."

"I don't know what you mean."

"You do, Crowley. You have to leave, sooner or later."

"No." he said with a sudden snarl, chest vibrating against the angel. There was a hand on his elbow, pulling him impossibly closer.

"Please, don't get upset, my dear. As I said, I don't want this day to be muddled by worry."

"Then go back to sleep and forget about what you said."

"You know I can't..." he whispered, chest clenching as he spoke.

"Do you know how much of my existence I spent waiting around for the end to come?" he said after a brief pause, his tone dropping to a gravelly murmur. "How much time was spent sleeping away months till I'd have something to do, something to make me feel like I was actually useful? I didn't think there was any point in trying to protect anything in this world; now I've found something, and I'm not even allowed to keep it." he finished, squeezing the angel's shoulders with rigid hands.

Silence loomed in the room for the next few minutes, neither sure of how or when to break it. 

"I don't honestly know if I understand anything at all about you anymore..." he said grimly, finally opening the curtain of feathers and letting in a stream of chill into their little hiding place. Aziraphale shivered at the draft, instinctively reaching a hand to pull the creature back to him, but stopped it quickly. "I don't want this to be difficult for either of us."

"That isn't the word I'd use for something like this. I don't know of a word, actually, now that I think about it. Everything's too fucked beyond help to describe any of it." he crossed over to the opposite side of the room, looking at the angel with a glower from under a mess of hair. "None of your books can describe what it's like to be a puppet, hm? The both of us teetering around on strings, as at least one of us is led to our doom."

"I'm sure everything's going to be alright. No matter what, we'll find a way out of this."

"You're much too sure of yourself, angel. There's a war coming. It's not child's play anymore."

"There's always been a war; we've just gotten used to it." he sighed softly, tempted to lay back into the couch and wait for the beast to follow. He reluctantly pulled himself up, staring down at his disheveled shirt; sticky residue of frosting lingered on the sides of his mouth, a grim reminder of how quickly the day had fallen to disarray. He tugged his coat back on, trying to think of what could possibly encourage in a time like this. 

"Not like this." he muttered under his breath, statue-like as he waited for the angel to speak once more.

"All the more reason for you to leave. It's not going to be safe for you, regardless of where you are. I can only do so much to protect you."

"I'm hardly the one who needs protecting. Look at you, angel. You're surrounded from all sides by unimaginable threats, and you still just spend your days lost in stories. There's still a world out there. Many, in fact, and you decided to stay on the one that's going to blow up."

"No matter how massive everything else may seem, She's still watching over everything."

"You-"

"Don't say She doesn't care, please. I know what you think, but I have to believe that somehow She's going to bring good from all of this. That someday everything will be at peace, and we'll find whatever happiness we long for."

"It's not something I have to search for anymore. I've already found it." he said softly, sliding fingers over the floor in strange patterns. The wood creaked under his touch, as he pressed firmly down.

"Then there's something to look forward to when you leave. All the more reason to take my offer, and enjoy what joys She's given you."

"It's not something outside, angel." 

"What, something in this store? If you tell me when it is, I'll let you have it. Then you can take it whenever you decide to go, and it'll give you solace in even the worst of times." He thought of all his books, all the stories that consoled him during tragedies throughout history, reminded him that so many others he'd never even met before could understand some fraction of his pain at the time. If there was one there was one thing he could do now, he'd try to give the demon the same kind of comfort.

He heard the sound of wood splintering under grinding nails.

"Then come with me." he finally spoke, looking up with an unrestrained stare, eyes flashing.

"...What?"

"What's more to say? I want you to go off with me somewhere, anywhere we can find that's free of all this rubbish. Isn't it just Earth that's getting fucked over by Heaven? Then we'll find somewhere hidden in the stars that nobody would think to look."

"But-no, why would you-we're on opposite sides! We're hereditary enemies, predestined to hate each other by nature, and if Hell found out- what could you possibly gain from doing something like this?!" his heart was hammering despite trying to stay calm, searching his mind for what he knew he should say. 

"What am I to you, Aziraphale?"

"I-well, you're certainly nice company, if that's what you mean. An acquaintance I've come to enjoy spending time with."

"Really? Isn't there another word for that?"

"Well-"

"Because I think of you as a _friend,_ the first real one v' ever had. If you think I'm going to give that up to some higher power, over a war I had no choice in, you've never been so wrong in your entire existence."

"...Crowley, this store is where I'm supposed to be. I can't just leave it, you know that."

"M' not saying you have to leave it for good, just till...well, till this war is all over and done with."

"I don't even know what'll become of this Earth as we know it today." he sighed, letting his head droop as he spoke. "I thought I'd finally found myself somewhere to call a home. I thought I could live peacefully...I suppose I was trying to pretend nothing could ever come and take that all away."

"Then I did, right?"

"No, no. I don't regret having your company for a moment, but you are right. This will all disappear soon enough, one way or another." he eyed the floor for a moment, eyes drifting shut. "I don't want it to."

"...Fine." he spoke, slowly getting to his feet. "If you're so set on staying in this musty old place, be my guest. I'm sure you'll have plenty of time to read and study and find meanings in everything that doesn't have any, and you'll enjoy it all much more without me there." Aziraphale looked up, the demon standing rigidly across the room. 

"So you'll leave?" he said almost hopefully, though his chest felt tight as he uttered out the question. Crowley walked over to where he was seated, looking down at him with tight lips and a slight nod. 

"Yes. I've outstayed my welcome, and you've made it perfectly clear what your wishes are." he said coarsely, looking as far away from the angel as he could. "Just..." he said with a long swallow, finally coming to face Aziraphale with a twitching brow. "Listen carefully to what I'm about to tell you, alright?" 

The angel nodded, waiting curiously for the creature to speak once more. "I know I can't guarantee Heaven is going to buy this, or that you'll get out of this unharmed, but...I assume they've already told you about the Antichrist."

"Ah, yes. I don't know very much, though. Hardly more than what I've read in scriptures. I assumed it wasn't for me to know."

"I doubt I know much more than you, but...I can tell you this: in just a few decades from now, the Antichrist is going to be delivered to the Chattering Order of St. Beryl. When that happens, it's only going to be a matter of time before the brat is old enough to manifest his powers."

"Why are you telling me all this?" he whispered, the demon holding him in his gaze for a moment before clamping his eyes shut, lines knotting his forehead. 

"Won't Heaven be pleased with you if you give them some sort of information? That's the most I know right now. It's not as if even demons trust each other with details, so this truly is the best I can give you. It's probably more than many of us know right now." 

"Well, yes, but-"

"Don't worry. Tell them everything, maybe they can smite the thing before it can do any actual harm."

"What?!"

"I don't care. The way I see it, Earth is fucked either way, so Heaven might as well win. At least this way you might have a shot at making it through."

"Crowley..." he began, but the beast waved his hand in dismissal, lowering his gaze.

"What, is that not enough? Do you want to know where I live? I'll tell you, I'll tell you anything you want to know if I can give you an answer."

"Just...what'll happen to you? Where will you go?"

"As I said, somewhere far away from all this-or try to, anyway." he spoke as he rubbed his face, still visibly tense despite the confidence in his voice. He faced Aziraphale once more, straightening himself rigidly. "Look, my offer still stands. I still don't understand why you'd find any happiness in a place like this..."

"Thank you, but I need to stay. This is my home, it's dear to me. It's filled to the brim with centuries of research and stories I could never part with. I have to watch over it." 

"Fine." he said quickly, looking around the shop expectantly. "So I just..."

"...Ah! Yes, you can exit through the doorway. I'll make sure nobody sees you; it'll be as if you were nothing but a passing shadow." he said softly, already walking to the main doorway and cupping a hand around the doorknob. His hand trembled slightly as it wrapped around, letting out a long sigh. 

"Are you worried somebody will see _you,_ the phantom owner of the strangest shop in town?" 

"It doesn't matter. They will eventually; it was only a matter of time before I'd have to make myself known, I suppose. Ah, I'll have so many memories to re-write, so much to change around, but...I'm going to take your advice. Open it up to the public."

" _Really?"_ he spoke, genuine surprise in his voice.

"Yes, I suppose I have no excuse now. It'll be a challenge, but I...don't think the silence would agree with me otherwise." he uttered as the door slowly pulled open. Wind rushed into the building, fresh, freezing air hitting the angel's skin like nails. He didn't notice it much, too distracted with watching the beast finally take his first few steps out of his cage. "Goodness knows you've been my guest long enough."

Crowley turned around once more, as if still searching for permission. The angel gave him a small nod and a smile that faded soon after. The demon paused, walking back for a moment and extended his hand expectantly. Aziraphale took it in his own, staring at it tenderly as it rested there for a few long seconds. It wasn't quite a handshake, and he was glad of it; they were a custom he'd never quite understood, lacking much meaning. Right now, though, he found more comfort in the little touch than anything he could've expected.

"...I don't want to waste your time with any-look, I-thanks." he said swiftly, tapping a foot as he spoke. "I don't know how much longer I'm going to last with things as they are, but, well, you saved my skin. Quite literally. You gave me...just thank you."

"Of course." he said as he looked up from the hold and looked in the demon's eyes. "I'm sure you've so much to catch up on, my dear. You should go out and fall back into whatever patterns of living brought you the most joy." Even as he felt happy, the guilt of caging the demon finally beginning to fade from his heart, his words were laced with a dull sting of sorrow. It was a selfish kind of pain, one that he didn't deserve to feel, and he tried to push it from his mind.

Crowley looked as if he was about to speak, opening his mouth for a moment, but instead gave the hand one last squeeze and quickly turned around, trudging down the steps. The angel only kept watch for a moment, turning away his gaze as if severing a connection. One that never should've existed to begin with.

There needn't be anything more to say, as now they were going to part ways and fulfill their roles as intended. At least, he hoped as much. 


	18. Days Gone By

There was something both comforting and melancholy about Sundays; those long afternoons especially, the way they seemed to drag on for eternity and feel a tad more somber than any other time of the week. Of course, there really was no actual difference, but Aziraphale always felt this time was set apart from everything else.  
It was also the most lovely day of the week, he thought. The way most humans allowed themselves to take much-needed rest, and some filled up churches and other holy buildings, flocking together for the purpose of finding peace and respite from the hectic nature of the world around.

He used to frequent churches every Sunday without fail before delving into a life of hermitage, anywhere he found the most love and community. Places where everybody was truly regarded as equal and worthy of peace. Some were extensive monuments, glittering with tributes of all sizes in the purpose of devotion. Others were nothing but small get-togethers where everybody knew each other by name, just a few voices filling a house in song.

He'd been told She was closer to the world in times where people gathered together to sing praises of Her, but he never felt such a change; instead, he found peace from the sounds and laughter gracing his ears throughout the services. He craved the joy he felt surrounding him, and wondered if She might one day show Herself if enough people bowed to their knees, lighting up these places on Earth with such a show of awe at Her creation, but as the days went by and the world got closer to its end, the more it seemed like nothing but a wish that could never be attained- unless he'd somehow missed it. Maybe he didn't know where to look.

Back in 1976, he'd thought it might be a nice routine to get back into, that it'd help him focus and clear his troubled thoughts, but with every moment in passing he'd find himself distracted by more worry. He heard every scripture as something laced with foreboding, looking at all the dear faces within every gathering and wondering which of them would be spared by Heaven's hand. It didn't take long to realize he'd find no comfort in it.

The was a weight in his heart that couldn't be lifted by even the happiness of others around him. Try as he might, there was a constant reminder of the fate that held the world in such a fragile grasp- and the friend he'd had to let go because of it.

He didn't remember much about what happened after the demon left his shop; the freedom from years of captivity should've uplifted Aziraphale's spirits in some way, finally given the silence he could use to think about what needed to be done in preparation, but he felt more lost than he ever had. She certainly wasn't going to give him any answers, determined as She seemed to be to watch everything unfold in its own way, and there was hardly anything to do but wait till Gabriel came back for one final visit. 

  
The day came too soon, a soft murmur of snow falling on the roof above. Despite all the words Aziraphale had thought up for the exact moment the archangel's cold stare met his, he couldn't find much of anything left in his thoughts to speak. There wasn't much he could do, determined to pull himself steady despite how broken he felt. 

He remembered spilling the story of the Antichrist like a river from his mouth, words soon growing into tiny sobs; even more than that he remembered the look of indifference was met, as he was _congratulated_. 

Everything was happening as intended; that's what he said. The Antichrist was supposed to be born, and a war would happen regardless. She wanted one. All part of the plan. 

The angel choked out questions, one after the other...why did the demon have to be contained for so long, why was he given this duty, and if everything was all laid out so perfectly, what kind of information could he have possibly learned from years of trying to collect it?

_What was the point of all that suffering?_

Aziraphale remembered that kindless smile, when he was told it was all to teach him. He was too soft, and needed to learn to be more forceful. Containing a monstrosity, whether or not he continued to add to its injuries, would teach him responsibility, leadership. That's all any of it had been: an experience to force him to become stronger. 

The archangel was just impressed he was able to get any sort of useful knowledge out of the beast. Their methods had never achieved as much. He was thanked, not for gathering any information he'd thought for so long was his duty to collect, but for getting the demon to talk at all. 

She wanted a war, he said. That Heaven would win, that Earth as he knew it would be erased. Aziraphale was _thanked_ , not for gathering any information that he'd thought for so long depended on his perseverance to collect, but for getting Crowley to tell him. 

He remembered more words, more compliments, each a reminder that all of it had been for nothing. They phased out of his consciousness before long, replaced by a growing static that lingered behind his eyes.

* * *

He stood in his once-sanctuary of a store, doing his daily schedule: he started with an inspection of the surroundings, making sure it all shined. Then he'd go through a list of things he'd say to anybody who might enter in and try to purchase anything. Polite things, pleasantries, anything that would pass the time and end with the same rejections. It was a nice routine, one that kept him opening the doors and windows, letting in sunlight and staying on his feet.

It wasn't something he didn't enjoy, not at all; he'd grown quite fond of talking with others, and though it felt uncomfortable and strange at first to speak in a fashion that would mimic the customs of the current year, it soon became a welcome change in his stagnant routine.

He actually had created a small area in the back with books he'd selected just for those who truly needed something specific to their situation. He knew the expressions and tone of voice a person would show when there was something weighing them down in their life, and he also knew the treasure that was a good story. He always made sure that if someone entered his shop with the desire to find something that would help in some small way, they would always find just that. 

It was certainly a better life for himself that he'd been trying for so long to create from just drowning himself in thousands of pages of documentation. He still read a new story nearly every day, perhaps many, but he'd started allowing himself to sink into a more relaxed pace.

At least once a week the angel would leave his home and go in search of exploration in his surroundings, learning the little odds and ends of life in the 1980's. The world outside wasn't all that intimidating after some time to get used to it, but it became harder to enjoy any of it as time went by. He knew it'd all be erased soon enough, and though that made it all the more of a reason to experience all that he could before it was taken away, the dark knowledge gradually spoiled it.

It was a foggy Summer day that he found himself huddled up on the carpet by his fireplace, sinking in the smells of burning wood and balancing a cup of chai in his lap. He stared at the flames, in a trance as they danced in disorganized patterns. A stack of novels lay by his side, and he'd started to flip through them earlier that evening, but found it useless. He couldn't keep his mind on any one thing for very long.

It was a few months till the year 2000, the beginning of a new decade, and everything felt mostly the same. The same flowers grew outside, the same sounds of cars sped by at the same time every day. Nothing much had changed, but it only served to remind him of what was to come.

He hugged a blanket closer to himself, feeling a chill despite the warmth all around. An occasional sprinkling of rain would start up outside, and the cracked open windows allowed in the smell of fresh rain. 

It'd been a somber day; not many people wished to go out in the weather for long, especially not to a dingy little bookshop in any case. People would cluster into warm coffee shops and diners and go home to hot showers on days like this. 

He heard a clatter of rain up above, on a large, circular skylight he'd installed in the ceiling a few years prior; he could've constructed the thing with the snap of a finger, but ended up employing construction workers to do it instead. They had to practically re-build the entirety of the roof to do so, but he didn't mind. These days, he didn't find himself wanting the usual luxury of powers when unnecessary. He had the time, he certainly had the resources. Projects could take up weeks, months; it didn't matter. 

At first, it was a welcome attraction to look at on clear days, and he often found himself staring at a sky lit up with stars when he allowed himself moments to pause and take in the sight, but somehow it didn't seem quite as spectacular now. He told himself he'd just grown accustomed to it, and moved on.

He heard a knock on the door, and froze up. Setting his tea down with a clang, he rose from his stiffened position and slowly walked towards the sound, looking out the windows lining the doorway. It wasn't a clear image at first, rain streaking the glass and fog sheltering everything in a thick blanket, but he soon realized there was nobody at all.

Despite his confusion, he creaked open the door, checking left and right, up and- that's when his eyes caught sight of a box. A small, dusty thing with a few holes in the top.

The angel bent down, picking the lightweight box up and looking it over in his hands, unsure of how to proceed. There was no address to reveal who'd sent it, or even if it was for him. He grew wary of even opening the package, wondering if it could've been some sort of mistake, but wrapped it up in an arm and took it inside with him, closing the door behind himself.

* * *

It was a few hours later before Aziraphale decided to open the unnamed package, looking at it crossly over his shoulder. It was sitting on a pile of books, a few beads of rain coating the material on top. There didn't seem to be any tape or other binding aside from a lid, and his suspicion grew. Could Heaven be trying to communicate in a new fashion? Perhaps they needed to be more secretive nowadays.

His hands grazed over the sides of it, settling on a hole that he wedged a finger in and pulled upwards. The lid easily flew open, and he studied the inside curiously: there was something cylindrical, with a dim shine glinting on one side, reflecting the light of the fire. He cautiously slid his hand down into the space, lifting up small thing in his hand. 

At first, the object looked to be...some kind of rope? Some sort of...

He dropped what he now knew to be a _snake_ , possibly dead, back into the box and fell backwards. Of course no venom could hurt an angel, but a wild animal had no place in his store. How easily he could lose it if it began to move, finding places to hide where customers might browse. Assuming it was even alive. 

Aziraphale carefully reached his hand in once more, watching for movement, and gathered the small creature up in his hand. It was only about a foot in length at most, and there didn't seem to be any injuries from what he could tell. He gave it a few gentle prods, keeping a firm grip just in case the thing decided to snap at him, but it still didn't move.

The concept of having a dead animal in his shop, one he'd only just now settled into the idea of owning as both a business and a home, sent a wave of sickness through him. Who could've sent him a dead snake?! Why? Could it be some kind of threat, or a message...? 

He considered for a moment that one of his particularly touchy customers could've done this as a way to get back at him for refusing to sell an item to them, but he thought even this was a bit far. A simple phone call would've sufficed, perhaps a strongly-worded letter.

It was just then that the creature that the animal began to stir in his grasp, and the movement made him jump; the creature fell out of his hands and onto the floor with a dreadful splat, hissing and swiftly slithering under a bookshelf.

The angel's heart began to race, bending down to his hands and knees to look for the thing. No, no, this couldn't happen. He couldn't have a living snake lost in his store- he'd have to close the entire shop till he found it, and what if it starved before that? His mind began reeling with possibilities, and he frantically waved a hand under the dark spaces to feel for the creature.

"Come here, oh please, come here!" he whispered, trying to keep his voice soft as to not alarm it further. "I'm sorry, little thing, I didn't mean to drop you. Please come back."

It was no use, seeing nothing but dust. He wondered if he'd have to search the entire shop, mess up perfectly-organized piles, if- He felt something wrap around his leg, and jolted as he looked down. The blasted creature had snuck up on him! 

Aziraphale looked down at his ankle sternly, pondering what would be the best course of action. Some snakes were known to try and strangle their prey, so perhaps it was a sort of defense instinct? If he tried to move it could slither away again, so he sat dumbly for a second to wait for an idea.

The creature only inched tighter, a tiny hiss emitting from its mouth. The angel inched a hand down his body, thinking that maybe, just maybe if he was slow enough he could get a good grip on the serpent without losing it again.

He held his breath as his fingers met with the scales, cautiously wrapping them around in a slow, smooth motion. It didn't budge, as if it was sleeping, though its golden eyes were wide open. 

"You gave me quick a scare you little monster." he chided, now bringing it up to view closer with a shaky arm. It didn't seem to resist, and he was beyond thankful. "Now, will you hold still? I'm going to set you outside- well..." he thought for a moment. Where might a snake like this even come from? He couldn't just set it loose in the middle of Soho...beyond the hazard of it biting a human, it might not survive in that sort of habitat. "Alright, just stay still, will you? I need to do a bit of research..."

* * *

Aziraphale brushed aside a few stacks of manuscripts, setting them neatly on the floor for the time being, as he sat down in a wobbly chair next to a desk he'd hardly used since he moved in. It'd been dreadfully unloved, and it felt a bit nice to finally have a reason set his hands on the thing. On top of the desk, aside from jars filled with knickknacks, odd and ends and miscellaneous clutter, there was a small, cubical desktop computer.

It took about ten minutes just to boot the thing up, and that was after he realized it needed to be plugged up in order to function. He supposed he'd been avoiding this for a while now since none of it made sense, but it wasn't too difficult how to open up a browser.

He didn't exactly know what to search, looking down at the serpent on his arm that peered curiously up at him all the while. Well...it seemed to be predominantly black, though it was hard to tell with just the light of the fireplace and a few lamps. It had a red belly, and yellow eyes. That was something to go on, anyway.

He soon realized this was going to be far more challenging than he'd expected, coming up with many different species. The Black Rat snake, the Ring Neck snake...

He brought the serpent up closer to his face, tilting his elbow a few times to get a better look. It did look somewhat like a Black Swamp snake...but from they supposedly were native to the United States! That couldn't be right, unless it escaped some sort of enclosure- which would explain why it was so docile. All the same, who would've just left it on his doorstep without so much as a note?!

The angel huffed with frustration, turning the computer back off. The snake suddenly begin to shift around his arm. 

"Oh dear, what am I going to do with you?" he sighed, furrowing his brow as he looked down at the creature. It flicked out its tongue at him, traveling up his forearm to his shoulder. "Where do you think you're going? If you want to asphyxiate me, I'd prefer if you did so in the morning." he grumbled, feeling it slide up and behind his neck with a shiver. It wrapped around once, dangling its head over his chest. It rubbed a cold line under his chin, sinking into a comfortable position with a few more undulations. 

"Are you searching for warmth? I suppose it is a bit chilly today, especially for a serpent. Ah, what of it! I'll figure out what to do with you tomorrow." he mumbled, knowing that if it moved throughout the night he'd notice right away. He knew the situation right now wasn't exactly ideal; he'd have to find out who left him the package and why, and what to do now that there was a living animal under his responsibility, but for the time being he was glad for a bit of company. It was something he'd grown to miss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been having some writer's block/general brain-fog as of late so the next update might take a while but it should be the last!


End file.
